


The Trials of Ike

by JAMoczo



Category: Fire Emblem: Soen no Kiseki/Akatsuki no Megami | Fire Emblem Path of Radiance/Radiant Dawn
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, And ridiculously cute about it, Ashnard's A+ Parenting, Careless Whispers saxophone riff, Concern over sex diseases, Dead wyverns are not appropriate gifts, Dreaded white fluff, Elincia is a Disney Princess, Engagement, Fluff and Humor, Guys I think Izuka might be evil, Ike will never be a bard, Kidnapping, Lekain is too for that matter, Multi, Pegacorns are real, Ranulf is a bro, Soren and Ike are in love, Soren and Pelleas are twinsies, Soren eats the eye candy, Soren has no time for your bullshit, Soren is a snarky little shit, The Black Knight is a dick, Tournaments
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-02
Updated: 2018-04-17
Packaged: 2019-02-27 09:19:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 57,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13245213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JAMoczo/pseuds/JAMoczo
Summary: A tournament is being held to win the hand of Prince Soren.  Of course, Ike is not about to let someone else marry his boyfriend, and Soren is not going to let himself become a political pawn.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This story began as a silly thing and involved into a collaboration between me and my BFF who is not on AO3. We are not done and the story is already over 45,000 words. So enjoy, and happy new year!

 

_Once upon a time, the Kingdom of Daein sat serene and beautiful in the wintry east of the continent of Tellius. King Ashnard and Queen Almedha ruled over their peaceful and freedom-loving people with wisdom, strength, and pants-shitting terror. They had twin sons, Pelleas and Soren, who were both brilliant, handsome, and accomplished mages (one more accomplished than the other.)_

 

_Ashnard knew one of the boys was to be his heir, but his decision changed as frequently as the winds. Pelleas was better at making Ashnard feel good about himself, but Soren was better in pretty much every other way. However, one day, when the boys had just come of age, Soren made a snarky comment about Ashnard's parenting style, and Ashnard made his choice._

 

_And then there was Ike. Ike was the son of General Gawain, First of the Four Riders. Despite not being a royal, he had lived in the castle his entire life with his father, his mother, and his younger sister Mist. Being only half a year older than the princes, Ike grew up to be fairly close to both of them, but, ahem, much closer with Soren._

 

 _And that was why, when a tournament was announced to determine who would win Soren's hand in marriage, Ike made_ _**his** _ _choice._

 

* * *

 

Ike was pacing around his family's small private dining area, brain racing. His mother and sister were making dinner while Gawain sat at the table, watching his son with a bemused expression. "Talk it out, Ike," he said fondly.

 

"This is my chance, there's no way I could marry him if he were a king," said Ike.

 

"Awwww," said Mist from the kitchen.

 

"You say 'awww,' but if they get married, that means you're on the hook for grandchildren," his mother reminded her, making her giggle.

 

"But a tournament? Would I even be allowed to compete?" Ike whirled to look at his father.

 

Gawain shook his head. "Not you. You need to be nobility. That being said, there's an easy way for you to get a promotion…"

 

"Gawain Greil, don't you dare be suggesting what I think you're suggesting!" Elena emerged from the kitchen so quickly it was hard for Ike to even register it.

 

"What? Petrine is a weak link. Ike could easily take her, as long as he came prepared for fire."

 

Ike had seen the woman before and she scared him a little, mostly because of her wildly impractical armor. "You really think I could?"

 

Gawain nodded. "So defeat Petrine, get into the Four Riders, and you'll be able to compete in the tournament."

 

Elena huffed, but she knew her Ike. "Be careful, would you?"

 

"Ike and Soren sittin' in a tree," Mist sang even as their quarters began smelling like burnt dinner.

 

* * *

 

It turned out Gawain's idea of "defeat General Petrine in a duel and become one of the Four Riders," was actually harder than it sounded and left Ike smelling like a delicious steak with a crazy woman plotting his murder, but he was able to pull it off. His family was proud, his secret boyfriend was not.

 

Ike found that out after he returned from the infirmary and Soren made him sit down on the couch to look him over for any leftover burns. "Tell me rumors of you joining the Four are false," he snapped. "Tell me you did not just get a target painted on your back to satisfy your ego."

 

"I needed to in order to be able to participate in the tournament," Ike replied.

 

Soren managed to get paler, which was impressive considering his complexion clearly said 'doesn't like the sun'. "What tournament?" he asked warily.

 

"The one to win your hand in marriage."

 

"Don't be too mad at him," Mist said as Soren's cheeks went bright red. "This is super romantic. I didn't think my blockhead brother had an idea what romance was."

 

Soren crossed his arms, looking at the stone floor. "For the record, the tournament wasn't my idea. It turns out my father is defensive."

 

"Shocker," said Ike.

 

"But if you compete, that means there'll be a competition. My sincere hope is that no one will show up and my father will look like an idiot."

 

Elena came in with some aloe. "Oh, hello Soren. Congratulations on your impending engagement." Soren groaned, and Elena smiled. "Don't worry so. My Ike will be fighting for love, and love is the greatest force in the universe." Soren made a noise not unlike a cat having a hairball, but Elena was excellent at ignoring her prospective future son-in-law's attitude. "I do have some bad news for you. The ladies at the temple have heard that one of your competitors will be a senator of Begnion."

 

Soren made the most horrified face that Ike had ever seen. Ike's face wasn't much better; his mother was a powerful priestess of the Faith, and he knew better than to ever cross her. The senators were all high-ranking clergy. "Okay. This is going to be harder than I thought."

 

"Mrs. Greil, please pray for me that it's not Lekain," Soren groaned.

 

* * *

 

"I thought the Goddess liked Ike's mom," Soren muttered. He stood between his mother and his brother on this, the first day of the tournament. Behind them stood Three of the Riders of Daein: Gawain, the Black Knight, and Bryce. There were eight people standing in the arena, which is seven more than Soren had hoped there would be.

 

Pelleas took his hand and squeezed it. "Lekain is old, he'll probably die of a heart attack," he replied quietly. They were experts at appearing to pay attention when secretly conversing. They didn't even have to move their mouths much so it wasn't obvious. Pelleas generally spoke while holding a fixed grin, Soren a small frown.

 

"Welcome brave combatants!" Ashnard bellowed. "You have all answered the call to compete for the hand of my youngest son, Prince Soren of Daein. He has a genius intellect, the royal blood of Daein and Goldoa, and is skilled at magic, alchemy, cartography, calligraphy, tactics, and embroidery."

 

("I read one embroidery book. One! And it was yours!"

 

"I'm not ashamed of it and you shouldn't be either.")

 

"With a pedigree and talent as impressive as his, only the best may lay claim to him."

 

("The best isn't interested, so you shmucks are here instead," Soren muttered, bitter.

 

Pelleas giggled then paused. "But what about Ike?"

 

Soren blushed. Almedha shushed them.)

 

"Introduce yourselves!" Ashnard grandly gestured to the one at the far right.

 

The huge man stepped forward, his red hair a wild mess despite the fanciness of his outfit. "I am Skrimir, Prince of Gallia! Among our warriors I am the finest barring our noble king, my uncle! I am here to claim the beautiful Prince Soren as my consort and Queen!"

 

("Methinks his power is not reflective of his brain…"

 

"He's not as hairy as I was led to believe he'd be.")

 

"Welcome to Daein, Prince of Gallia. Next?"

 

The first of two women stepped forward. "My name is Elincia Ridell Crimea. I am third in line to the throne after my uncle and father. I am here to prove myself, and to secure peace between Daein and Crimea."

 

("She looks less thrilled than I do, and that's saying something."

 

"I think the royal announcement should have included that you aren't exactly into women…'only men need apply? Bros but not hoes?' But not literal bros, because I sure don't want to marry you. And not hoes, because that term's rude.")

 

The third stepped forward before Ashnard could acknowledge Elincia. "I am Vice Minister Lekain of Begnion. I shall complete your trials and win the famous tactical mind for myself! And Begnion."

 

("Eegghhh. Is murder still illegal?"

 

"Only if you get caught.")

 

"Next?"

 

A large man with blond hair, a spear and impressive blue armor stepped forward; he did not look super happy. "Excuse me, sir, but did you say that's a prince?"

 

(As the man and Ashnard argued, Soren snapped, "Oh come on! I'm not _that_ feminine!"

 

"It shouldn't be funny, but it is. But you're the one who refuses to cut your hair, that's on you.")

 

"I'm out!" the man said, marching off the field. Ike face-palmed.

 

The next was someone that everyone in the royal box recognized: Tauroneo, former member of the Four Riders and notable knight. Ashnard literally laughed at him as he spoke, but no one else did.

 

("He is definitely older than our father."

 

"He probably changed our diapers…"

 

"Did you really need to say that?"

 

"I think I did. Think he wants you to call _him_ Daddy?"

 

" _Oh my gods, Pelleas, what is wrong with you?"_ )

 

The next was a man who had a smug smile on his handsome face, with fancy gold and white armor. "I am Ludveck, Duke of Felirae in Crimea! My destiny is one of glory and ruling, and thus I am here to begin that journey!"

 

("A Duke brazen enough to compete against his princess? Interesting."

 

"I'd choose Elincia over him but that brings us back to 'women need not apply…'")

 

Speaking of, the second-to-last participant loudly proclaimed, "I am Fiona, daughter of Lanvega and Steward of Marado! I am here for the glory of Daein!"

 

("Who daughter of who?"

 

"No idea.")

 

Then it was Ike's turn, and Soren's heart skipped a beat. He hadn't actually thought the idiot was going to compete, but he was down there and, with his stepping forward, was officially entering the competition.

 

"I'm Ike," he said, voice as blunt as usual. "I'm a Rider of Daein, as of yesterday. I'm here because I want to marry Soren. That he's a prince is just coincidental."

 

The audience gasped and tittered, clearly liking this new romantic angle. Almedha covered her mouth in shock. Soren could hear Gawain facepalm.

 

Ashnard looked confused and turned to look at his Riders. "Is that why what's-her-name with the fire stick is gone?"

 

"Yes, Sir," replied Bryce.

 

"Shut up, Bryce." Ashnard turned back to the combatants. "Very well. You seven shall compete in a series of trials, and the winner at the end shall claim my son. The rules are simple: other people are not allowed to interfere, and you are not allowed to harm each other." The king got a rather evil grin on his face, which made it clear that his reasons were not altruistic. "Your first trial is this: Atop the highest mountain in Daein are six tokens. You have twenty-four hours to fetch one and present it to my son. Obviously, one of you will be eliminated by the end of this first challenge. May the strongest warrior win!"

 

Skrimir turned into a massive lion and left the arena in few bounds. Elincia got onto her pegasus and took off in flight. Lekain disappeared with powerful teleportation magic. Ludveck and Tauroneo used magical transportation powder. Fiona got upon her mighty steed.

 

Ike started running.

 

("I'm doomed."

 

"Probably.")

 

* * *

 

_**THE TRIALS OF IKE** _

 

_The "Prize":_

 

_PRINCE SOREN KURTHNAGA DAEIN, a snarky mage who really needs to keep his mouth shut_

 

_The Competitors:_

 

_IKE GREIL, a guy who does not want his boyfriend to marry someone else, thanks_

_PRINCE SKRIMIR GALLIA, a beefcake who is only somewhat smarter than he appears to be_

_PRINCESS ELINCIA RIDELL CRIMEA, who no one wants to win, including herself_

_DUKE LEKAIN OF GADDOS BEGNION, a smarmy douchebag with ridiculous muttonchops_

_GATRIE, a knight - oh wait, never mind, he failed a spot check, he's not in this story anymore_

_DUKE LUDVECK OF FELIRAE CRIMEA, a smarmy douchebag with no facial hair to speak of_

_SIR TAURONEO, a nice old man who is here for all the right reasons, nothing creepy_

_STEWARD FIONA OF MARADO DAEIN, who stands absolutely no chance of winning_

 

_The Supporting Cast:_

 

_PRINCE PELLEAS RAJAION DAEIN, SOREN'S twin who is thrilled this story isn't about him_

_RANULF, a cool cat who is IKE's friend and SKRIMIR's assistant_

_MIST GREIL, IKE's sister who is probably enjoying his suffering too much_

 

_Also Appearing:_

 

_KING ASHNARD DAEIN, SOREN's father and the reason this story is happening_

_QUEEN ALMEDHA GOLDOA-DAEIN, SOREN's mother who is horrifying_

_SIR GAWAIN GREIL, IKE's dad and First of the Four Riders_

_ELENA GREIL, IKE's mom and firm believer in the Power of Love_

_TITANIA, GAWAIN's protege and Crimson War Goddess_

_THE BLACK KNIGHT, a knight who wears black and is a member of the Four Riders_

_BRYCE, who is too old for this shit and is a member of the Four Riders_

_PETRINE, who really likes fire and dogs and was a member of the Four Riders_

_IZUKA, a nice old man who is here for all the right reasons, nothing creepy_

_HAAR, a wyvern rider_

_RAJAION, a dragon_

_WYVERN, a wyvern_

_CACTUS PETE, a bandit_

_CONFETTI RAINBOWFLUFFS, a pegacorn_


	2. The First Trial

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Ike forms a lifetime hate for flying, and Soren endures the weirdest small talk ever

Ike had a pretty solid jog going on, but he was already sweating as he left the city.  This was probably a bad start.  Oh well, if he had to run to the mountain and back, he would.  

 

He heard the sounds of a horse’s hooves but didn’t think much of it until said horse pulled up by him.  “Follow me!” cried a gleeful Mist. He thought back to the last few times he had heard her say that and figured whatever she was leading him to, he wouldn't like it.   “Yah!” She dug in her heels and took off.

 

As he followed his impulsive little sister, he heard the piercing cry of a great beast. _Great,_ thought Ike. _A wyvern._

 

When they came to a stop, Ike had to rest his hands on his knees to catch his breath.  Mist circled around the wyvern, which eyed her with boredom and Ike as if he were a tasty snack.  “Where’d you get it?” he asked, not keen on riding this thing.

 

She guided her horse to a stop, dismounting and walking over to scratch the giant lizard between the… ear ridge things.  Do wyverns have ears?  “She’s Jill’s. She said you could borrow her.”

 

“Huh, I doubt she did it willingly.”  Jill was Mist’s best friend, but she and Ike didn’t get along at all.  

 

Mist made a face.  “She doesn’t like you, but she sure likes Daein.  I didn’t need to know that that includes making sure its prince gets laid by a proud Daeinite, but hey, this beats running, right? Besides, she owes me for all the times that I healed Haar after he took a nap and fell off his wyvern.”

 

He wasn’t sure.  “There’s a lot of things wrong with that.”  

 

“Just get on the wyvern, Ike.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Soren Kurthnaga Daein, why does that boy want to marry you?” demanded Almedha, every word enunciated and every motion exaggerated.  

 

Soren sat on his bed, completely calm.  “That’s the point of the whole thing, Mother.  They all inexplicably want to marry me.”

 

Almedha sat next to him.  “You know what I mean.  He is not and has never been good enough for you.”

 

“Do you even know his name?”

 

“It’s something peasantish.”

 

“Well he’s certainly not the worst competitor.  He’s better than Evil Muttonchops, Obvious Traitor, the one who quit, and Woman Daughter of Someone.”  And, as far as Soren was concerned, better than Skrimir, Elincia, and Tauroneo too.

 

“He’s going to get himself killed completing these trials.”

 

Soren frowned.  “Are you implying you know what they are?”

 

She shook her head.  “No, not all of them.  All I know for sure is that your father is enjoying this far too much, which implies that a lot of people will suffer.  And that boy is among the weakest of the bunch, you must admit, although he’s certainly comelier than the others in the face, if not the body.”  She sighed.  “If you were half as smart as you think you are, you would simply choose Skrimir and have done with it.”

 

That surprised him; as a dragon, his mother was usually dismissive of other laguz.  “Really?”

 

“Certainly.  He’s not terrible to look at in the face, his body is wonderful, his uncle is incredibly attractive and, unlike the others, he will come with his own kingdom.  Imagine it! My flopsy as King of Daein, and my mopsy as Queen of Gallia.”  She covered her heart and made a happy sigh this time.  

 

Pelleas joined them with some chamomile tea.  “But then you’d likely never see him again,” he pointed out, pouring cups for everyone.  “Your poor baby would be all alone in Gallia, surrounded by _the fur people_ …”

 

“The horror!”  Almedha covered her mouth.  “You’re absolutely right!  I hadn’t considered that!”

 

And Soren also felt horror at what he hadn’t considered: that his mother could be right about something.  Ike was a warrior, yes, but he wasn’t in Skrimir’s league.  He had no powers to speak of, unlike Lekain.  Elincia and Ludveck had likely received royal training their whole lives, and Soren knew little about them otherwise.  Had Ike really bitten off more than he could chew with this?

 

No.

 

Ike had been his friend and unofficial bodyguard for years.  They’d secretly been dating, and although it was a sweet and chaste courtship it was still rather heart-warming and meaningful.  He was one of the very few people Soren knew he could trust.  

 

Soren wasn’t keen on marrying anyone, but if he had to, then Ike was it.  

 

Soren would just have to help him.

 

Pelleas interrupted his thoughts by handing him some silk to embroider.  Soren rolled his eyes and definitely did not get to work.

 

* * *

 

 

The wyvern landed back outside the gates of Nevassa and promptly threw Ike off.  He landed on his back, token in hand, and took a minute to evaluate the decisions that had brought him to this point.  

 

“You’re a jerk, wyvern,” he said, voice hoarse from all the screaming.  He was not cut out to be a dracoknight.  “I don’t know your name so I’m going to call you Shinon.”  The great beast did not seem impressed.  He got up, cracked his back, and started to walk back to the palace.  

 

“Hey Ike!”

 

Ike stopped at that voice, surprised to see Ranulf of all people.  “Hey, what’re you doing back?”  They shared a hand clasp and a pat on the back.  “I didn’t think they’d drag you home only to resend you.  Or are you not here as an ambassador?”

 

Ranulf had been the ambassador from Gallia for awhile, which was not an easy position given Daein’s love of blatant bigotry.  As one of the few people who truly gave no fucks, Ike had been one of his friends while he was here and he’d been sad to see him recalled.

 

Ranulf let out a very embarrassed, awkward laugh, the definition of “suspiciously guilty.”  One ear flicked nervously. “Weeeeell let’s not talk about me, let’s talk about you!  How’d you get back so fast?”

 

“Ranulf.”

 

“I mean you are the last one with a token, which means that what’s her name, the girl, is the one disqualified, but you’ve got plenty of time until the challenge is over.”

 

“Ranulf.”

 

“It’s kinda funny because Ashnard clearly thought twenty-four hours would be difficult and yet it ended up being too much time!”

 

“Ranulf!”

 

“Okay fine! Part of my job as ambassador was looking into an arranged marriage for Prince Skrimir.  Portraits were exchanged, and it turns out that Skrimir has a thing for physically frail long-haired pretty boys who have no problem telling him off.”  At the look on his face that Ike certainly hoped expressed his feelings of betrayal, the cat man continued, “In my defense, I tried to make it not happen, but once a tournament was announced, Skrimir was all on that.  So uh, my plans, uh, didn’t work.”

 

“No kidding!”  

 

“So yeah, I’m here as Skrimir’s assistant as he works to marry your boyfriend,” Ranulf admitted, scratching his ear awkwardly as he stared at the cobblestone street at his feet.  “On the bright side, maybe you and Skrimir can be friends since you, y’know, have similar taste in men.” He grinned; he clearly thought that was funny if in poor taste.

 

Ike did not, so he just stared at him.  

 

Ranulf decided to use the opportunity to dig the hole he was already in deeper.  “In retrospect, had I told you or Soren, you crazy kids could have gotten engaged and we could have avoided all this.  But hey, too late now!”

 

“I want to punch you,” Ike said and he started walking away.

 

“That’s not fair,” Ranulf whined, following behind him.  “Skrimir would have made a move even without me! And I'm a cat laguz so it's not like we're generally direct. I mean, I did say I was here on sensitive state matters… Still. I'm… that is, I am... feeling… regret…” (Which was as close as a cat--laguz or otherwise--ever gets to an apology.)

 

Ike still wanted to punch him, but had a better idea.  “Here’s the deal.  I’ll forgive you if you give me tips on getting him out of the competition.”

 

Ranulf’s left ear twitched.  “As long as you know that I’m agreeing not because I’m afraid of you punching me, but because I’m deathly afraid of Soren becoming my boss.”  

 

They shook on it.

 

* * *

 

 

The worst part of the challenges, Soren realized, was that every dinner became a formal affair that he was expected to not only attend, but also humor his prospective spouses.

 

First, this meant he was not able to take small meals in his office while he worked on any of his various projects.  

 

Second, people got to watch him eat and comment on it, which had become one of his most abused pet peeves.  (Yes he does eat “like a heron,” no he does not care!)

 

Third, he had to be charming and entertaining, which was definitely not one of his talents. They had to settle for “not obviously scathing.”

 

Fourth, he had to be dressed up in formalwear before every dinner which, given his knee-length hair and his waiting staff’s love of messing with it, could literally take hours.

 

And fifth, he had to show absolutely no bias in his talks with the competitors, which was incredibly difficult given his fondness for one, hatred for another, and lack of interest in the others.

 

King Ashnard sat at the head of the table, to his right was Queen Almedha, to her right was Crown Prince Pelleas, and to his right sat Soren.  Soren’s right side was going to be different every night, but the first night was Prince Skrimir and, to his right, his assistant Ranulf.  

 

Soren knew Ranulf as the former Gallian ambassador and Ike’s friend.  In fact Soren had been one of the few people here to not hate Ranulf for being a cat.  Instead Soren hated Ranulf for possibly having a crush on Ike.  Which, now that Ike had literally announced to the country where his interests lay, Soren could admit to himself that Ranulf probably wasn’t interested in Ike for anything other than friendship, considering he didn’t seem the least bit dejected.  Or else he was a good actor… Soren sipped his wine and resolved to keep an eye on him just in case.

 

But Skrimir was not one to let someone else be the focus of attention, so Soren was forced to put aside his irrational hate for Ranulf.  “When I first saw your portrait, I was surprised at how pale you are.  Now that I am here, I understand why you are so pasty, given the lack of sun and the constant presence of the dreaded white fluff.  Instead I find myself in awe of how _tiny_ you are!”  

 

Before Soren could register any of it, Ranulf interrupted, chagrined, “We’ve been over this, it’s called snow, and you’re not allowed to tell beorc how small or weak they are, they consider that rude.”

 

“I am going to abdicate and start a band, and I will call it Dreaded White Fluff,” Pelleas said, even as Skrimir turned to Ranulf to demand just why he couldn’t comment on the obvious fact that the little beorc lacked any of Skrimir’s impressive muscles and overwhelming power. Ranulf facepalmed.

 

With a disgruntled huff, Skrimir turned back to Soren.  Soren always felt small when compared to nearly any male his age or older, but Skrimir really was absolutely enormous, even larger than Soren’s father, and it was off-putting.  “This fluff, the ‘snow.’  Why do your people hate it so?  I understand this is your weather year-round.”

 

Okay, so this was just small talk about the weather, only… weird.  “The snow is omnipresent and exhausting, and personally speaking I never feel warm.  Do people not complain about the weather in Gallia as a way to make small talk?”

 

The beast prince scowled.  “Our weather is fantastic, but we do not make small talk.  When we speak it is of matters of great importance.”  Soren nodded, somewhat impressed with that idea, until Skrimir continued, “Power, strength, sex, and food.” To the side, Ranulf twitched. “Those are the topics we address, nothing frivolous.  Speaking of, you eat very little.  It is likely why you are so small and frail.  When you are my Queen there will be many feasts in your name and you will gain proper curves.”

 

Soren knew he had to be diplomatic, but he also knew he wasn’t.  “I kind of hate you right now.”

 

Ranulf facepalmed again, his forehead now red, but Skrimir was undaunted.  “Your Daein ways are different, so I need you explain what I said that offended you.”

 

“Your assistant was correct that commenting on someone’s physical form is inappropriate,” Soren said through clenched teeth.  “Also I am not female and will never get ‘proper curves.’  And I loathe observations on my eating habits and you would do well to never mention them again.”

 

Pelleas leaned past Soren to help smooth things over.  “He’s heard all the jokes there are about that his whole life, is all.”

 

Skrimir nodded, scowl still present.  “Very well.  Although I feel compelled to point out that it is not just you - your brother is tall but also frail.”

 

“Thanks,” said Pelleas dryly as he sat back.

 

“There is hope for you both.  Your father at least appears as a warrior ought to,” Skrimir continued, voice genial, “and your mother is horrifying.”

 

Soren laughed out loud.  Then he coughed because he hadn’t laughed in a decade and his body wasn’t sure what was going on.  He took a drink of wine, ignoring the flabbergasted stare from his twin.  “Yes,” he agreed when he could speak again.

 

“She is the first dragon I have ever gotten to know decently,” Skrimir continued, “so I admit I find her more confusing and interesting than I should.  She is comely, though.”

 

“Dear Goddess Skrimir you do not flirt with someone by talking about how hot his mother is!” Ranulf snapped quietly, clearly having lost his patience.

 

“She is basically a female version of Soren,” Skrimir pointed out to his assistant before facing Soren again.  “That being said, you are far more attractive.”

 

Ranulf let his abused forehead hit the table.  Soren started drinking all of his wine. This conversation was brutal.

 

“She flirted with me quite blatantly, but I refused her advances,” Skrimir added.  “She also told me the next challenge, which, while I certainly need no forewarning, was still appreciated.”

 

He had Soren’s full attention. Finally, he could get something out of this encounter.

 

* * *

 

 

Across the room, Ike had been doing fairly well - Soren was in peak hotness with his hair all done up and his fanciest robes on, Ike appreciated the eye candy _so much_ and he looked forward to all these ceremonial activities if it meant Soren got to be in form-fitting clothing - until Soren started laughing.  

 

Laughing.

 

And nodding.

 

There was a lot wrong with that!  Ike had realized that in a straight comparison he lost to most of his competitors; he had sentiment going for him, and that was it.  So if Soren actually had fondness for one of the others…? Especially Skrimir, who was basically Ike but better?  Well okay, he wasn’t vain but even Ike knew he was better looking, but-

 

“Sir Ike?”

 

Ike shook his head to clear his thoughts.  He’d gotten lucky; Ike was separated from Ashnard by Lekain, Ludveck, Tauroneo, and Elincia, so he got to sit between the princess and his sister.  “Oh, sorry, Princess.”  

 

Elincia smiled at him, the first time she’d smiled that he’d seen.  “It’s okay.  There’s a lot going on.  If I might ask, how did you complete the trial?”

 

“Kicking and screaming!” said Mist with too much excitement.  

 

Ike shot her a dirty look, and resolved to ignore this weird twisting in his gut.  He’d just have to talk to Soren later.  “Not funny, little sister.”  She clearly disagreed, so Ike turned back to the princess.  “It’s a long story, but mostly embarrassing.  It wasn’t as, uh, easy a time as I’m sure you had.  From what I saw, you ride that pegasus like one of the Begnion knights.”

 

Her smile got more genuine.  “I’ve been training in such things since I was very young.  My, um, my friend rides a typical horse and I enjoy flying in the air above him… I learned that way that horses do feel jealousy.  Oh, Prince Soren is a mage, is he not?  Do you suppose he can enchant a horse to fly?”

 

“If he can do that, I would rather he figure out a way to make me fly,” Ike replied. He liked horses well enough but preferred to be the one in control, and this trial made it clear that he and flying creatures did not mix well.  Mist had a sly smile on her face now, and Ike added another mental note to talk to her later too.

 

Just… Soren first.

 

* * *

 

 

That evening, Soren was brushing his hair when he heard his balcony door quietly open.  He smiled to himself and stood up to greet his visitor.

 

Ike rushed from the door and hugged him tightly.  “Hi.”

 

Soren petted his hair, closing his eyes and leaning into him.  He smelled good, like comfort.  “Hi yourself.  I’m sorry about all of this.”

 

Ike leaned over and sweetly kissed him.  “It’s okay,” he said simply.  “Please stop apologizing.  I know it’s not your fault and this isn’t what you wanted either.”

 

Soren looked him over for any injuries.  “You look fine, except tired.  You should go back to your rooms and sleep.”

 

Ike grinned.  “I know I make it look easy, but climbing the tree outside your window is tiring.  You’re going to kick me out already?”

 

Soren fondly sighed and bade him sit on the bed.  “You know you can’t stay here overnight.  The last thing we need is for you to be disqualified.  I have no idea if my favoritism is against the rules or not, but I already know that my mother doesn’t want you to win, so I don’t want to take any chances.”

 

Ike pulled him into his arms for cuddles.  “Your mom has never liked me.”

 

“My mother doesn’t like anyone, really.  She has a crush on Skrimir though.”

 

Ike hummed thoughtfully.  “How was your dinner with him, anyway?”

 

He got comfortable.  “Not terrible,” he said, which was odd to have to admit.  “We shared stories.  His uncle once ate a particularly annoying senator.”

 

“Sounds like he would get along great with your parents,” Ike agreed, closing his eyes.  

 

“Oh!”  Soren sat up a little, so Ike opened his eyes.  “Speaking of my parents, Skrimir also overheard what the next trial is…”


	3. The Second Trial

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Ike meets a bandit in proud tradition of absurdity, and Soren deals with sociopaths

Ike found himself leaving Nevassa, looking for a guy who went by the name of Cactus Pete.  “What is wrong with my life?” he asked himself.  

 

The second trial was literally finding and killing one of the bandit leaders in the area and returning to the castle with their scalps.  So, work that should be done by the knights was being outsourced to people who had no other choice.  It was almost insulting, except Ike preferred this task to the first one by a wide margin.  Walk in and kill some jerks?  Amazing.

 

Besides, he’d been warned in advance, done a little sleuthing, and knew that Cactus Pete (“Seriously?”) was sequestered in an old fort in the Desert of Death, apparently in hiding until his notoriety died down. And he was also there because apparently what every villain does is go hole up in a fort generally surrounded by a lot of other cronies (even when they're someone so unlikable you can't imagine they'd have cronies). Ike would likely need to fight his way through the fort and then defeat Cactus Pete (he really couldn't say that without rolling his eyes).

 

Or maybe Ike was just hoping that's what would happen. Maybe this guy was a total loser and he wouldn't even put up a fight. Wouldn't that be awkward if he was unarmed and passive? _“Er, sorry, Soren, I just couldn't do it, you see he was defenseless- Oh, Skrimir ate his face off for you?  Shit.”_

 

Ike sighed and continued walking.  

 

* * *

 

 

“So if I were to conquer Kilvas, how would I go about it?”

 

Soren sat across from his father, both looking at the chessboard in front of them.  This was one of the few appropriate ways that Soren had to interact with the very fickle Ashnard.  “You wouldn’t.  Kilvas is an island and we don’t have a navy.”

 

That seemed to be the correct response, as Ashnard flashed one of his _Am I going to die at the end of this grin?_ Smiles.  He had no other type of smile.  “It’s a shame you have such other uses.  Your brother suggested we conquer Kilvas with the power of friendship.”

 

Oh Pelleas.  Soren had a theory that his twin had some sort of protective power to keep everyone happy with him at all times.  “Somehow I’m not surprised.  Why are you plotting to conquer Kilvas?  Angry they didn’t join the competition?”  

 

Ashnard was a dignified despot and drank tea like a goddamn gentleman.  “Perhaps.”

 

“Well personally speaking I’m glad they’re staying out.  The only crow I would ever consider is their king, and he is already married.”  Honestly, he wouldn’t consider any of the crows, much in the same way he wouldn’t consider most people.  “Although… I’m curious…”  Soren made his move on the chessboard.  “If you had to choose which of my suitors would be victorious…?”

 

His father nodded to himself, although if it was about the question or about the move, Soren wasn’t sure.  “I am partial to the little Crimean princess.”

 

Soren felt his eyebrow rise up.  He really had not seen that coming.  “Really?”

 

Ashnard made his move on the board.  “Her father galls me, and I am amused to think of his grandchildren being mine as well.  And if you do your job well, then you can be a successful destabilizing force in the country, which will make my eventual victory over it easier.”

 

Soren had a lot of choice comments to make about that, but the last time he’d snarked off at his father a whole tournament was thrown to get him out of the country, so he wisely kept his mouth shut.  

 

“Checkmate.”

 

Besides, he’d just lost the game.

 

* * *

 

 

“Look, you don't have to fight me,” Ike said in a resigned voice. “It's only your leader I'm after.”  He'd repeated this multiple times but for some reason the default response was to attack. Ike was almost getting bored, it had been that easy.

 

“So I can get an amnesty?”

 

Ike paused. That was a new one.  “Well… no, but I won't kill you.”

 

The guy nodded at him with big, dumb eyes.  “That seems fair. I just started. Never done first bandit yet or nothing.”

 

Ike stared at him.  Well, this was awkward.  “Okay. So, how many more of you are in this place? And who built a bandit fort out of wood in the middle of the desert? _And why is his name Cactus Pete?”_

 

The bandit seemed almost excited to be helpful. “Just Sven, Banora, and Bob, not counting Cactus. They're his bodyguards. Maybe bodyguards with benefits, I don't know. I have no clue who built this place as it just kinda was here. And I guess because his dad was Saguaro Sam. Can I go now?”  

 

Ike didn’t want to let him go because he was still a bandit, but he did feel some sympathy.  This guy was clearly the Worst Bandit Ever.  “Sure. Thanks.”

 

The guy ran.

 

Three more and then the big boss. Ike wondered idly if these three would have the same brown leather partial armour that everyone else did or if they shopped somewhere else. Readying his sword, he walked down the hall and into the last chamber.

 

He wasn't surprised to see three large people blocking a large wood door that appeared to be made to fit dragons through it.  The two men wore leather armour with chainmail over top, carried silver poleaxes and were large and muscular. The woman behind them, on the other hand, was clad in a loose robe and held a tome.  Uh oh.

 

“Arcthunder!” she screamed.

 

 _Really, she yelled the name of the attack?_ Ike had time to think before the lightning crashed down.  It hurt like hell and made his hair somehow more spiky, but in truth the woman’s magic paled in comparison to what Ike was used to magically sparring with and he was able to shrug it off pretty well.  

 

He backed off around the nearest corner and started his speech again. “My name’s Ike, one of the Four Riders of Daein.  You don’t have to fight me, it’s only your leader I’m after.”

 

Unlike the other times, this one got him a very different response.  “Well, well, well.  The _boy_ seeks ta become a _man_ by takin’ out **_ol’ Cactus Pete_ ** , the greatest outlaw in the desert.”  

 

Ike snuck his face around the corner.  The three people were joined by a fourth, who was just a guy with an ugly mustache.  “Pretty sure you’re the only outlaw in the desert,” Ike pointed out.

 

The man shook his head slowly, and it became apparent he was monologuing and ignoring Ike completely.  “Ah heard ‘bout this gubbernmint hit job.  The great **KING ASHNAHD** was afraid to face **_THE INCREDAHBLE! CACTUS! PETE!_ ** in battle, so he sent out... **A ROOKAH**.”

 

“A rookah?” Ike muttered to himself, questioning.  “Oh, rookie.”

 

“You tell ‘im, Cactus!” one of the others cheered.

 

“Hey man, I appreciate your self-esteem, but King Ashnard is a scary beast and a colossal asshole, so if he were here he’d be painting the walls with your entrails, and I mean that literally, he would use a brush and everything, he’s a big art patron.  I’m trying to make the man my father-in-law, which is kind of weird, but oh well.”  

 

“Yer related to the King? So you'd fetch a good price if we captured yer. Git 'em, lads! And Banora!”

 

“What, is the incredible Cactus Pete too scared to face a rookah?” Ike said with an ironic smile.

 

“Yer too low level for the likes of me. Jest remember try not to kill him, boys! And Banora.”

 

Banora the mage sighed and Ike almost felt sorry for her. That didn't stop him from advancing and taking out the man on her left.

 

“No, Bob!” Cactus Pete cried.  

 

Ike dodged more lightning and a swing of the axe from the other guy.  No nonsense, he stabbed the guy.

 

“No, Sven! Not Sven!”

 

Ike slugged the mage in the face, knocking her out cold.  

 

“Argh, not Banora!  She kept us well-diversafahed!”  As Ike faced him, Cactus Pete put his hands up.  “All right, all right, Ah yield!”

 

Ike paused.  “Ugh, sorry, _you_ can’t yield, you’re literally the only person here I can’t accept surrender from.  No hard feelings, but I need your head.”

 

Cactus Pete drew out his knife.  “Ah feel all the hahd feelin’s!  Well fine, **THE INCREDAHBLE! CACTUS! PETE!** will not go out without a-”

 

Ike punched him too.  He collapsed like a house of cards in a windstorm. “Ugh.  Now I have to cut your head off, man.  This is just awkward.”

 

“If you won’t do it, I’d be happy to.”

 

Ike looked around before noticing that in the main room there was a small prison cell with two people in it - a male beorc and a female laguz.  “Oh, hi,” said Ike to them.  “I take it you’re prisoners.”

 

“You take it right,” said the man.  “We were held here for the, ahem, _crahm of lookin’ at Cactus Pete a little wrongin’.”_ He shook his head.  “I still don’t know what that means.”

 

“Me neither,” said his girlfriend.

 

“Anyway, I’d be happy to kill him for you after how long we’ve been here.  I know my way around a sword fine.  He has the key to our cell on his belt.”

 

Ike fetched the key off and undid the lock.  “Here you go.”

 

The man took Ike’s sword - his stance said swordmaster, so like Ike but a lot faster and not as strong - and cut off Cactus Pete’s head while Ike and the man’s girlfriend watched with morbid fascination.  The man picked up the head by the hair and handed it to Ike.  “Here you go.  My thanks for saving us.”

 

“No problem,” said Ike, taking it.  The two men shook hands and the couple went on their way.

 

Ike sighed and started walking back to Nevassa.  Now he understood why some people drink.

 

* * *

 

 

All six participants had completed the second trial, and so the court feasted once again.  Soren’s dinner partner was… Lekain.  

 

Ugh.  

 

The man had a veneer of civility that was so oily and fake it was enough to make one hate the entire Begnion Empire, purely to spite the nation that gave him any power at all despite how he was obviously a bloviating ignoramus. He, for all his magical prowess, wouldn’t last a day as one of Ashnard’s senators; Ashnard hated weakness most of all, but he also hated sniveling sycophants and unwarranted arrogance.  And if Soren were king, Lekain would die choking on the expensive, clunky gold rings he insisted on wearing every single day on every single finger.

 

Soren didn’t like Lekain.

 

This opinion did not change as they were forced to sit together.  Soren’s skin had broken out in stress hives, and the only thing keeping him from leaving the table all together was Pelleas’ calm presence to his other side.  This was backwards from how it usually was, with Pelleas typically having more socially awkward situations to deal with, but Soren always helped him through them, so in a way this was just payback.

 

And across the table, Ike sat between Elincia and Skrimir which, while not as bad, did seem terribly awkward and it made Soren feel a bit better.

 

“If I were you, I would be honored to have such esteemed competitors,” Lekain was saying.  “Rarely do su— laguz and beorc agree on anything, as I am sure you know, but your dowry has fetched the interest of beast and human alike!  And many of my countrymen had sought to come, but I, Duke Lekain of Gaddos, was imposing enough that they did not dare.”

 

“Last time, Skrimir and I talked about the weather and how hot he thinks my mother is.  I would literally rather do that for a week straight than listen to you say another word.”  Okay, Soren failed at diplomacy yet again, oh well.  Under the table Pelleas squeezed his thigh.

 

The toady mask cracked, just a little.  Lekain was clearly unused to bluntness.  “Fortunate for me then, that a week of painful smalltalk is not an option,” he replied through a forced smile.  “Unfortunate for you that the lion prince stands no hope of winning your hand.”

 

 _No he does not, although not for the reason you’re thinking,_ Soren thought.  “You don’t take hints well, do you?”  

 

“I have no need to.  I am the Vice Minister of Begnion, and the needs of others do not concern me.”  He then smirked as he sipped his wine from a gaudy-looking chalice he clearly brought from home.  “You’ll receive the same courtesy as my consort.”

 

“There isn’t enough wine in this room to make me comfortable with you talking about _our marriage._ ”  To drive that point home, Soren drank heartily from his own glass.  

 

“At this rate you’ll die from liver failure before you actually get married,” Pelleas quietly suggested.  Soren was okay with that, and chugged.

 

Lekain leaned over, violating Soren’s personal space to whisper in his ear, “You’re as good as mine, so you might as well get used to it quickly.”

 

(Ike was managing to nod in reply to Skrimir’s talk of combat-- _I crushed the life from his weak body with my powerful jaws-_ -when he saw Lekain lean in to Soren's personal space and Soren's teeny tiny line between his eyebrows in reply. Soren was upset.

 

Before he could leap up and probably start a war and get himself disqualified, he felt Elincia’s hand on his arm.

 

“Whatever is the matter, Sir Ike?”

 

The fact that he'd forgotten entirely about her presence-Ike had been too busy hating Skrimir and yet admiring him as they compared battle tales-and the fact that she had freezing hands made him pause.

 

“Huh?” he asked, looking around. No, no one else seemed to notice Soren's distress. He watched a moment longer, ready to intervene regardless. It would depend on Soren's next response.)

 

Soren had to take a breath to get his composure back, and in that short space of time he was bodily lifted from his chair and placed in the seat on the other side of Pelleas.

 

“Hi,” Almedha said as she slid into his now-empty seat, voice saccharine-sweet as she leaned too close to the Duke.  Lekain himself all but jumped backwards. “Tell me Vice Minister, what are your thoughts on barbecue?”

 

Whatever his thoughts were Soren didn’t get to hear, as Pelleas asked him through his fixed grin, “Are you okay?”

 

Soren nodded, irritated with himself.  Ashnard seemed confused, but not enough to bother asking for clarification.  

 

(Okay, crisis averted.  Go Queen Scary Mom.  Ike relaxed a little.

 

Princess Elincia followed Ike’s gaze enough to recognize he was concerned with goings-on across the table.  “Queen Almedha… Do you think she can turn into a dragon?”

 

 _“I don’t know and that makes it scarier.”_ )

 

* * *

 

 

“I killed a guy called Cactus Pete today,” said Ike as he laid on Soren’s bed.  

 

“Your tone is very confused, as I imagine you are,” Soren replied, curled up into Ike’s side.  He was smiling.  

 

“Yes.  He… he was proud of that name, Soren.”  Ike couldn’t get that across very well.  “He was proud of it.  He thought it was clever.”

 

“It’s a mighty name.  Perhaps we should name our first child after him.”  Ike’s head snapped to look at him, and Soren was still smiling.  “All hail Prince Cactus Pete Daein-Greil-”  

 

Ike kissed him to shut him up.  Soren blew out a soft laugh.  “I know you’re joking, but that’s scary and not funny,” Ike chastised, although he was grinning too.  “Don’t curse our future children.  They deserve better.  Like Saguaro Sam.”

 

Soren covered his mouth to hide his amusement.  “Dear gods, really?”

 

“That was his father.”  Ike shook his head solemnly.  “Hopefully Pete didn’t have any children to avenge him.”

 

“May we never encounter Cereus Cecil.”  Soren smiled, then sighed and got comfortable again.  “Regardless, he was a menace to society and you should be proud of your accomplishments.  You are much stronger than you think you are.”

 

“Thanks.”  Ike pressed his dry lips to the brand on Soren’s forehead.  “It would mean more if the others hadn’t succeeded, too.  But, I’ll keep competing as long as I can.”

 

Soren nuzzled into his neck.  “Thank you.  I’ll do my best to help you.  Unfortunately, all I know of the third trial is that it’s taking place in Nevassa, and I overheard someone say it would unfairly favor Elincia.”

 

“That doesn’t help much,” Ike admitted.  “I don’t know anything about her.  I keep forgetting she’s competing at all.”  

 

Soren merely hummed.  “Hopefully it won’t involve flying.  I’ve heard you’re not very good at it.”

 

Ike hit him with a pillow.


	4. The Third Trial

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Ike has the diet of a toddler and Soren eats the eye-candy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading and reviewing! This chapter is a bit darker, and so… **trigger warning for off-screen child abuse.**

Ike woke up to the loud knocking on his door. “Hey Ike!” came his father’s voice, “You get breakfast in bed!”

 

He only got a moment to ponder why this was happening when a servant walked in with a tray of food. The servant put the food down on Ike’s lap and left. Ike just stared at it - it was a tray of food, but the food was all… vegetables and apples… and one bread roll.

 

“Ugh,” said Ike, running his fingers through his bed head.  This did not make any sense. His mother usually made him breakfast and knew Ike was more of a meat and potatoes kinda guy. Then he spotted the card that read: _from a secret admirer._

 

“Ugh,” he said again. “Not another one!”  Somehow he managed to attract those a lot. He’d been hit on, allegedly at least, by a pegasus knight, a cat laguz woman, apparently Ranulf (if Soren was to be believed, but Ike didn’t see it and neither did Ranulf for that matter), and an older lady who really freaked him out.  They always made Soren prickly, which was irritating.

 

Mist poked her head in and started laughing. He glared at her as he picked up the roll and took a bite; at least something on this plate was edible. Then he belatedly realized he was chewing on a piece of paper. With shock he pulled it out of his mouth and read it: _Stuff your pockets._

 

He read it over and over again but it still didn’t make sense to him.  “Hey, quit laughing and help me figure out what the heck is going on.”

 

His sister came in and sat on the bed as he explained what little he knew.  “I wonder if maybe it’s from Soren,” Mist guessed thoughtfully.  “I mean the note in the only thing you’d eat just screams him.”

 

“Yeah but why would he torment me like this?”

 

“Well he is still Ashnard’s kid, maybe he has a quota?  You know, ‘must torture someone at least three times a day’? Or, oh! Maybe it’s related to the next challenge!”

 

He tried to remember what had been said about it yesterday.  “It would unfairly favor Elincia, is what he heard.”

 

“Ohhh, so it has something to do with-”

  


* * *

 

 

The arena where this had all started was covered with a large net.  Six horses with wings and horns were flying around, neighing with what Ike guessed was either anxiety or anger.  Or both, who knows.  “Oh, it all makes sense,” he muttered, having an idea as to what the third challenge was.

 

The king had a rather sadistic smile on his face, which made Ike want to punch him more so than usual.  “These are pegasii – majestic and rare, and wild from birth.  Your task is to place a halter on one of them.”

 

“They have horns so they aren’t pegasuses, right? They’re pegasus-unicorns.  They’re… pegacorns,” Ike grumbled to himself, but Elincia heard him and giggled.

 

“That is distinctly unfair, the girl has an advantage!” Lekain snapped.

 

Ashnard laughed.  “Life isn’t fair, Senator.  Prince Skrimir, you were the first to return from the prior trial and may choose when you go now.”

 

Skrimir chuckled, stepping forward.  “I will of course go first.”  He shifted into a lion and took off at a run.  Ike was wondering how he was going to pull this off, but it turned out a massive powerful lion is perfectly capable of jumping up and scaling the walls of the arena, making the people in the stands scream in horror as he pounced from the sides to tackle one of the pegasuses.

 

To his credit, when he landed the creature was screaming in fury but unharmed, and his efforts had been smooth and graceful.  He held the horse down until it stopped fighting him, then transformed back into his humanoid self.  The hardest part he had was figuring out how to get the bridle on.

 

The judge announced, “Prince Skrimir has completed the third challenge!”

 

“Like a barbarian,” Lekain muttered.  From the look on her face Elincia agreed with him.  Ike was just happy the poor thing was still alive.  Both Ludveck and Tauroneo were unreadable.

 

(Ranulf, sitting with the royal twins, facepalmed.  

 

“You’re going to get bruising on your head if you keep that up,” Pelleas pointed out helpfully.

 

“I don’t know why you’re surprised.  All this does is reinforce that to Skrimir, he is a magnificent hammer and everything in the world is a nail,” Soren added.

 

“I've told him that exact thing multiple times,” Ranulf replied. “The problem is that I'm supposed to break him of the habit.”

 

“You’d have an easier time completing this entire tournament yourself.”

  


“Now that, that I could do. But teach Skrimir?” Ranulf sighed and shook his head.)

  


“Duke Lekain, you are second!”

 

He marched forward, visage pissed off.  Once he was beneath one, he pulled out what looked to be a magic wand and waved it.  The pegasus fell like a boulder.  

 

Elincia covered her mouth with a horrified expression.  “How the hell was that any better than what he did?” Ike demanded.  Lekain did not deign to answer the question even as he got the halter on and completed the trial.

 

“Do you want me to go next?” Ike asked, since she looked so pissed off.

 

“No, I’ve got this.”  Elincia was clearly some sort of magic princess, since as she walked forward one of the pegacorns circled above and landed near her.  It sniffed her over and then, pleased by the smell, began to nuzzle her.  “Why hello!  Aren’t you a sweetheart!  You probably smell my pegasus on me.  Yes yes, I love you too.”  She gave it kisses, and it let her put a halter on.

 

Ike took a deep breath and strode forward.  One of the  pegacorns - damn it he was going to call it what he wanted to - had landed and was regarding him warily, and Ike slowly walked to it.  “Hi, horsie horsie,” he cooed, pulling carrots out of his pockets and holding them out. He was pretty sure he heard Ranulf laughing but he ignored his friend and focused. Now that he was up close, he saw more specific details: it had curly fur, and a cream-colored base with lots of flecks of different colors ranging from white to black and all over the brown spectrum.  “Aww, you’re kind of cute.  Here, have my carrots.  I sure as heck don’t want them.”

 

The creature nibbled on the carrots with glee.  It regarded him with big brown eyes, and Ike realized it was not going to try attacking him.  “Heh, you like food.  Just like me.  We should be friends.”  He petted its ears.  “I know you’re only humoring me because I’m giving you food,” and he fetched some broccoli out to offer, “but I will definitely take it.  I’d be screwed otherwise.”  His new best friend didn’t want to let him go get the halter, but while it tensed up, he was able to get it on.

 

(“Interesting,” the king said to his son, “Very interesting that the boy just happened to be carrying food in his pockets.”

 

“You clearly have never met Ike before,” Soren replied, keeping his voice as neutral as possible.  “The man always has snacks.”

 

“Hmmm.”  Soren could tell his father was not buying it, but since he didn’t expel Ike from the competition, Soren considered it a victory regardless.)

 

Tauroneo was as methodical in catching a pegacorn as he was in doing anything else. First he took out pegacorn bait--well, more food-- and then he set it out. After that he rigged up some kind of rope trap around the bait and waited. He caught a grey pegacorn within 20 minutes. No pain and minimal time spent. Impressive.

  


Ludveck, on the other hand, stepped out and pulled a crossbow. He shot one in the wing, waited until it crashed and then put on a halter.  The poor creature screamed in agony. Ike's hand went to his sword. He didn't hold with abuse of any kind.

  


Elincia put a hand on his arm.  In her other hand she had out a healing staff.  “Don't, you'll just get in trouble. I hate it, too, but look-”

  


Healers had descended on the injured pegacorns and were healing them. Ike reluctantly sheathed his sword. He would crush the man as soon as he could.

  


As all contestants were announced victorious, King Ashnard looked downright disappointed in the stands.  Ike didn’t feel the least bit sorry for him.

 

* * *

 

 

Much later that day, Soren sat on the edge of a fountain in the courtyard, taking shallow breaths and trying to focus on the book in his lap.  He was fine, he was perfectly fine, there was no reason why he shouldn’t be able to understand this light tome.  It was just an entry-level introduction into playing with sparkles!  He was an archsage!

 

His already tenuous concentration was ruined by Skrimir and Ranulf coming into the gardens together, talking.  He considered trying to hide, but movement was not going to go well for him and besides, he was certain they could smell him.  So instead he focused on his book and hoped they got the hint.

  


“I have to admit I am so far unimpressed with the dreaded King Ashnard’s challenges,” Skrimir was saying.  “Six participants are still in even after the third trial.  Were my uncle to create a series of challenges for prospective mates for me, I imagine few would survive the first one.“

  


“You say that as if anyone would fight for you,” Ranulf replied with a good-natured snicker.  

 

For a man as egocentric as Skrimir, he actually seemed to have a decent sense of humor.  “No one has ever left my bedchamber complaining.”

  


“Where you could hear them…”

 

“Oh!  Hello, little one!”  Skrimir waved to him, and Soren sighed, knowing that he was about to be pulled into their conversation.  Skrimir also seemed genuinely happy to see him, which was confusing.  “We weren’t ignoring you - it’s hard to smell well out here sometimes, given the cold.  It’s the one thing I miss most about Gallia.  Given that you are out here in multiple layers, I imagine it will be something you’ll appreciate.”

 

He closed his book.  “I wouldn’t know what to do in the heat.”

 

“We were coming out here to spar a little,” Ranulf said smoothly before Skrimir could continue.  “Prince Skrimir gets cranky if he gets too much energy built up.”

 

“Back home I have more ways to work off steam,” the lion prince interjected.  

  


“We can find another place to fight if you’d be disturbed…”

  


Soren shook his head, mindful of the importance of keeping them in the castle.  “Not at all.  Go ahead.”

 

Daein’s racist propaganda was aimed toward the populace, emphasizing the laguz as mindless beasts (or birds or lizards) unworthy of being called humans.  As an insider, Soren was privy to the fact that the intention was to make any war against Gallia, Phoenicias, Goldoa or Kilvas more palatable should the need ever arise or the whim ever take Ashnard.  In private, Ashnard was actually quite impressed by the sheer strength most laguz could display.  As a result, Skrimir and Ranulf were significantly safer in Daein Keep than they were anywhere else, and Soren knew it.  And at first, that’s all it was.  

  


Then it seemed like the world went into slow motion as Skrimir pulled his shirt off.  Soren may or may not have heard a slow saxophone riff and seen sparkles.

  


That was the day Soren discovered he had a type, and that type was _buff._

  


Soren’s cheeks reddened.  He tried not to stare.  He really did.  But those _abs_ , and those _arms_!  Oh who was he kidding - that body was _incredible_ , all of it from the chin down.  He just needed to get that hair tamed… and that scowl really didn’t suit him well… but the ears were pretty cute, honestly…

 

Soren felt a little disappointed when he transformed.  Oh the lion was majestic in its own way, but damn, what a shame.   He returned his eyes back to the tome on his lap, and made just as much progress on it as he would have without the distraction.

  


(A transformed Ranulf looked at Soren “reading” and flicked his tail before focusing on Skrimir.  “That's cute. Stripping in front of the beorc to try to make him want you. I suppose if you can't impress him with your conversation, you have to start somewhere.”  He laughed. As they were shifted, none of this sounded like human speech but they spoke just the same.

  


Skrimir chuffed in his amusement.  “I am not as dumb as you think I am.  The little one smells of purity and sexual repression.  And my gamble worked, he is definitely interested.”  He paused.  “Also that shirt was expensive and Giffca would have my mane if I ripped it.”

  


“Like that's ever stopped you before,” Ranulf countered. “Use that body. It's all you have.”

  


Skrimir made sure to hit Ranulf extra hard for that one, but he didn't mind. It had been worth it… but how was he going to tell Ike about this?

  


He stopped thinking about it when Skrimir came at him again so that he could dodge easily. The cat laguz wasn't as strong as the lion--no one was except the King--but he was faster both on the uptake and in general.

  


Still, the no shirt thing had been a good move and Soren had smelled interested. Ike would not be happy, even if he had nothing to worry about. Soren clearly desired Ike but more importantly was head over heels in love with him.

  


Probably.

  


Maybe.)

  


* * *

 

  


Ike was surprised when Elincia asked him to lunch, but his mom didn’t raise a rude boy so he accepted.  They ended up eating food Ike’s mom made and sitting there, so it wasn’t exactly fancy or anything fit for a princess, but she didn’t seem to mind.

 

“I just wanted to thank you for helping me keep calm during the trial,” she said.  “And I guess too for being nice to the poor pegacorns.”  She giggled.  “You’re silly, Sir Ike, you really are.  Pegacorns is the cutest thing.”

  


He shrugged.  “I’m just glad I had food.  I know it wouldn’t have gone well without it.”

  


“Can I ask you a question?”

 

“You just did.”

  


She giggled again, and Ike wondered if maybe there was no one capable of telling any jokes at all back in Crimea.  “It’s just - we’ve heard a lot of stories about the Mad King Ashnard.  I’m here because I want to give him as little reason to conquer Crimea as possible.  But, neither of his sons are particularly ruthless.  How is it that happened?  I was wondering if you knew…”

 

Ike chuckled to himself.  “Oh boy.  I’ve known them both most of my life.  Pelleas is and has always been exactly who he is.  As for Soren… when we were little, I still remember him getting upset because apparently some guy he didn’t like _looked_ at him.  He tried to have him arrested for treason.  I pointed out the guy didn’t do anything wrong.  Soren’s exact reply, ‘Huh, I don’t have any other coping skills.’”  Elincia laughed out loud.  “It’s been a work in progress, and he does have a streak of severity in him, but yeah, he was way worse when we were young.”

 

“That is so cute,” Elincia admitted.  “I can just picture little you and little Soren!” Then she calmed herself, looked a little sad.  “You care for him a great deal, don’t you?”

 

He wasn’t sure how to respond to that.  Honesty was always the best policy as his mom liked to say, but she was still a competitor.  But then he remembered he had literally announced it to the whole tournament before, so he admitted, “Yeah.  I do.  It’s why I’m here.”

  


She smiled, her eyes still sad.  “That’s very noble of you.”

  


It was at this point Ike’s sister appeared.  “I’m sorry to interrupt, but I couldn’t help overhearing… Princess Elincia, if I had to guess, you have someone special at home too, don’t you?”

  


The princess blushed, and Ike remembered Mist’s knowing smirk from dinner the other night.  “Yes I do,” she admitted quietly.  “But sometimes, duty comes first.  He knows it.”

  


Ike scowled even as Mist sat down.  “You should marry who you want.”

  


She smiled at him sadly.  “If that were true, there wouldn’t be a tournament.  It’s different for royalty.”

  


“It’s not fair, for any of you.  Besides, if you're in charge, you should be able to make your own decisions.”

  


There was a knock on the door.  Elena bustled out of the kitchen and answered it.  Ike heard her greet whoever it was happily.

 

Pelleas walked in.  “Hi - oh, hello Princess Elincia, Mist.”  He looked at Ike.  “Excuse me, can I talk to you for a minute, in private?”

  


Ike felt a cool wave of nerves, but he shrugged and stood up.

 

“Oh!” Elincia stood up too.  “I’m sorry, I’ve lost track of time.  I actually need to get going, I have letters to write and want to get them out before the post is sent.”  She smiled at everyone, doing a small curtsy.  She moved to thank Ike’s mom before she hastily left.  

 

“Aw, poor thing,” said Mist wistfully.  When Pelleas looked at her, she jumped a little.  “Oh, right, you wanted alone time.  Got it.”  She scurried out too.

 

The prince sighed to himself, then looked at Ike and said, voice firm, “Listen, I like you, I really do.  But Soren is more important to me.  So, if you hurt my brother, I will kill you.”  

 

Ike took a moment to appreciate the statement and who it was coming from.  Then he started laughing.

 

“Stop that!” Pelleas demanded, which just made Ike laugh harder.  “I’m serious!  I really will!”

 

Ike was trying really hard to vocalize why this was so ridiculous, but he just couldn’t.  This was the hardest he had laughed in his whole life.  “A-are you,” Ike gasped this out between laughs, “g-goin’ to t-tell the others the s-same thing?”

 

Pelleas glared. “So what if I do?”  He no doubt was aiming for angry but his voice came out pouty instead.

 

Ike snickered more. “Good luck! Right. Well. I won't hurt your brother, so you won't need to try and hurt me. Luckily for us both.”  As Pelleas stormed out, Ike made a mental note to remind Mist she needed to give Soren the shovel talk.  It would be about as effective, but only fair.

 

* * *

 

 

For dinner that night, Ike got to live out his worst nightmares: sandwiched between Skrimir and Ashard.

  


With dinner being _vegetarian_.  Clearly a bumper crop of plant imports had come in.

 

It was actually made worse by Ashnard refusing to acknowledge Ike’s existence.  The man just looked at him, snorted in derision, and talked to his wife and Skrimir as if Ike wasn’t sitting there.  It was, of course, completely insulting, but there was nothing he could do about it.  So he tried his best to eat his bunny food and imagined all the ways he’d kill Ashnard some day, because the guy really needed to be murdered for a bunch of reasons - the way he treated his sons in particular, as far as Ike was concerned, but there were plenty of others too.

 

He also watched across the table as Elincia had her chance to eat next to Soren.  She seemed to be worried about something, but whatever it was Soren wasn’t humoring her about it, as his responses were, from what he could tell, simple words.  More telling was that his brow was furrowed, showing annoyance and frustration.  Ike resolved himself to ask about it later… if he managed to survive dinner.

 

* * *

 

 

Ike climbed the tree and gracefully dismounted onto the balcony, going in the unlocked door to Soren’s bedroom.  The moment it registered that Soren wasn’t there, however, killed any positive feelings he had.  “Soren?”

  


“I’m here.”

 

Soren exited the bathroom, and Ike noticed everything as if he was hit by it – the way his robe was loosely tied, how he carried himself gingerly.  “Shit.  What set him off this time?  Did you breathe at him?”

 

Soren snorted as Ike helped him lay down on the lounge chair.  “He didn’t believe me when I said you carry food with you.  He didn’t see anything wrong with Tauroneo having it, but you, he assumed I interfered.  The joke is on him, since you do seem always have snacks at hand.  Just… not vegetables.”

 

Ike winced.  “Shit,” he said again.  “I’m sorry, this is my fault.”

 

He shook his head.  “Not at all.  I was sloppy.  I’ve been hurt worse.”

 

That’s what he said every time.  “Anything in particular worse off?”

 

Soren scowled a little, which Ike recognized as his “I can’t believe I have to admit to weakness” look.  “My ribs.  I think he broke a rib or two… or six.”

 

“Shit.”  Ike clenched his fingers.  “I’m going to kill him.”

 

“You are not.”  No, Ike wasn’t, the man was out of his fighting league, but if intentions mattered then Ashnard was dead a thousand times over.  “I’m fine.  I put some numbing oils on.”

 

“That won’t fix your broken ribs!” Ike snapped back, hands clenching and unclenching.  “Do you have a vulnerary?”

 

“Of course not, they don’t grow on trees.  And I don’t have the materials to make one, either.”

 

Ike let out a frustrated noise.   He tried to remember the healers he knew – his sister and mother, and Elincia maybe?  That would explain why Elincia looked so concerned during dinner.  “I’ll go get Mist or my mom, or Elincia had a staff to heal the pegacorns-”

 

_“Absolutely not.”_

 

Ike curled up against Soren’s side.  This was a long-practiced dance between them, but usually Ashnard didn’t break bones.  He tentatively placed his hand on Soren’s hip.  “Fine.  But you need to stop helping me.”

  


Soren leaned his head against Ike’s.  “I’ll try to be more subtle.”

 

“Don’t you trust me?”

  


He looked at him with those garnet-colored eyes.  Some people thought they were creepy, but Ike found his eyes gorgeous.  “This isn’t a matter of trust.  There is a lot riding on your victory and I refuse to take chances.”

 

Ike made a noncommittal hum.  “I can do it, Soren.  I will do it.  I refuse to let you marry someone you don’t want to.”

 

Soren closed his eyes, relaxing.  “Thank you, Ike.  That means more to me than you’ll ever know.”

 

“And someday I will kill Ashnard.  Just so you’re prepared.”

 

His boyfriend snorted delicately, and not for the first time Ike wished he knew what he was thinking.  Ike found Soren’s relationship with his father completely baffling, although he truly couldn’t relate; some days Soren would protest that he would be the one to kill Ashnard thank you, still other days he accepted Ike as his future champion, or said that no one was hurting his father.

 

At length, Soren spoke, with a small smile on his tired face.  “Pegacorn?”


	5. The Fourth Trial

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Ike is too honorable for his own good, and Soren gets a gift

The fourth trial was announced via letter, which Ike got the next morning.  He was exhausted, but it was his own fault - he’d stayed awake with Soren most of the night, sneaking back to his own room shortly before sunrise and getting the letter about an hour after he woke up.

 

_Go forth and retrieve the egg of a mighty wyvern, within twenty-four hours._

 

Not that bad, really, even if Ike wasn’t a big fan of wyverns.  He’d rather fight one than ride one.  Ike got dressed and went down to the stables.  

 

He even knew where to start: he casually knew two wyvern riders, and while Jill was kind of a witch, he got along okay with Haar.  Everyone got along with Haar, the man was incredibly chill.

 

… Sometimes too chill, considering when Ike found him, he was napping on a bale of hay under the miffed gazes of the equines in the stable.  Not that Haar could see them, considering he had an eyepatch, and was, well, asleep.  

 

“Don’t you have a bed?”

 

“Too comfortable,” the man muttered.  That was one of Haar’s skills - the ability to be both awake and asleep simultaneously.

 

“You need to see a doctor,” said Ike sagely.  “Anyway, I need your help.  The next tournament challenge is getting a wyvern egg, and I need pointers on where to start.”

 

Haar stood up, stretched, and sauntered into the pen where his wyvern was sleeping.  

 

“You should put a eyepatch on him and enter a couples contest,” Ike observed.  Neither Haar nor his wyvern responded, but the wyvern in the stall over - the one Ike called Shinon - snorted.  Ike liked it a little bit more.  “What are you doing?”

 

Haar came back out with a large egg.  “Here.  Bought and paid for by an anonymous source.  Not so anonymous if you ask me, but my lips are sealed.”

 

Ike stared at it.  “That’s cheating.”

 

“Is it?”

 

He thought back to the wording of the challenge.  “No,” he admitted, “but it _feels_ like cheating.  Besides, I don’t need it.  I can get an egg the right way… Um, if you tell me how…”

 

Haar shrugged as he put the egg back.  “Whatever, no skin off my nose.  Wild wyverns like high-up places and make their nests in rocks.”

 

“High up places…” Ike looked to Shinon, who looked at him.  “Aw crud, not again!”

 

Clearly Shinon agreed, as the lizard turned and snapped at Haar’s wyvern, who sighed and batted at Haar with a wing.  “Ow, I get it.  Ugh, there goes my afternoon.  Hop on, kid, we’re going for a flight.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Despite being twins, mages, and roughly equal in terms of power, Soren and Pelleas had very different magic.  Soren had been born with a natural aptitude for wind magic as a result of his manifestation of draconic blood (his mother alleged that Soren used wind as a way to defend himself and his “poor mumsy” from lightning, a dragon’s natural weakness).  Pelleas, meanwhile, had been born with middling magic potential and signed a spirit pact to trade his life force for power, which revealed his magic of choice was dark (ironic, considering his personality), and also managed to earn the ire of his family.  

 

Still, the brothers trained together frequently, and they continued to do so during the tournament.

 

“How are you feeling?” Pelleas asked, worried.  “Should you be up?  Father was angry.”

 

Soren wanted to shrug it off  and deny it, but that wasn’t physically possible at the moment.  “I’m fine.”  His poor servant had almost fainted upon seeing him this morning, embarrassingly enough, but then found him an outfit that had a bit more structure and support in the ribcage.  

 

“I am learning to use a healing staff…”

 

“Pelleas.”

 

His brother sighed, but quickly figured out how to get his revenge for being thwarted in doting.  “Soooo what are your thoughts on your paramours? I want the good stuff.  Have you considered marriage to any of them?”

 

“I have.  A marriage to Elincia would be boring and polite; not the worst fate, but we have no chemistry.”  

 

“I like her.  If I were braver, I would ask her out myself.”

 

“Rumor has it she has a boyfriend back in Crimea.”

 

“Oh.  Darn.”

 

“Anyway, I hope Lekain dies in a grease fire, and you know my feelings for Ike.  I haven’t talked to Ludveck at all - he isn’t even pretending to be interested in me, so I certainly hope he loses horribly.  And Tauroneo always looks miserable and has been avoiding me, so marriage to him will presumably be safe.  And weird.”

 

Pelleas accepted this before he got a rather devilish smirk on his face.  “And Skrimir?”

 

Soren felt his cheeks color at the implications in Pelleas’ tone.  “I could do worse.  I could do better, but I could do worse.”

 

“You can’t fool me.  You’re blushing for a reason.  It makes sense, you clearly like buff guys.  Your marriage to Skrimir would be super hot but super frustrating.”

 

“Nobody asked you!” he protested, hating Pelleas’ accuracy with his observations (but not his spells - he couldn’t hit the broadside of a barn with his magic.)

 

“Why are you ashamed?  There are days I think every woman I see is gorgeous.  And you and Ike aren’t sleeping together, right?  So you, my sweet brilliant brother,” he giggled, “need to get laid.”

 

“ _Dear Ashera, shut up.”_

 

He started laughing.  “And you have the same tastes as Mother!”

 

Soren hit him with a flare before running away.

 

Ridiculous!  This was not happening to him!  Skrimir was _so stupid_! … But that body was to die for… and his ears were so cute…  But he was _so dumb!_

 

He ran into someone, literally, which made him scream in pain as the person caught him.

 

“Oh no!  Prince Soren!”  Soren was wincing as the woman helped him keep standing.  “Oh you poor thing.”

 

He fought it back.  “Hello Mrs. Greil.”

 

Ike’s mother was perfect in an intimidating way.  She was unerringly kind and sweet, and as the High Priestess of the Daein Keep chapel she was more powerful than she let on - she had to be, to keep her husband and two children in line.  Soren liked her and hated her at the same time.  She was always good to him and Pelleas, but that was part of the problem -  watching her taught him about how lacking his own mother was.  Elena always acted as if she genuinely liked him; Almedha loved him because he was her son, but made it clear she didn’t like him too much.

 

Plus Elena had been the one to tell him about the church’s stance on his cursed blood.  He’d appreciated the information, but since it was obviously bad, it’d tainted his opinion of her ever since.  He knew it wasn’t fair to her since she had expressed her consternation with the scriptures, but still, he felt resentment.

 

Now Elena was no nonsense as she tsked, looking him over before taking his hand and leading him to the chapel.  “Oh honestly, I will never understand your family nor do I want to.  If my Gawain ever hurt Ike or Mist-”

 

“My mother doesn’t know and I would thank you to not tell her,” Soren curtly interrupted.  “Why are you taking me to the chapel?”

 

“You’re family, and I refuse to let you be hurt.”

 

“But-”

 

“Ike doesn’t need to worry about you more than he already does.”

 

Soren went silent, letting her use the chapel’s healing staff on him.  She let out a sigh of relief as if she’d been the injured one.  “There you are, dear.  All better?”

 

“Just a little sore at the ribs, but they’re not broken anymore.”

 

“Good, good.”  She looked him over before putting her hands on his shoulders.  “Darling, how are you holding up?  This must be a lot of stress for you.”

 

It was obvious where Ike got his genuineness from.  Both of his parents were earnest and made you feel like they actually cared.  It always threw Soren off; he could barely handle it from Ike alone.  “You’re asking _me?_  Your son is the one in danger-”

 

“Ike demanded this danger, literally.  Since he’s on a mission, he’s determined to see it through and I can be content knowing he is doing what he wants.  But I know you didn’t want a marriage, and you certainly weren’t looking for a tournament.  How are you feeling?”

 

He considered his answer carefully.  “Overwhelmed,” he admitted.  “A lot of it hasn’t sunk in yet.”  

 

She nodded and hugged him again.  “Well, don’t worry about Ike.  When he was three years old he proclaimed he was going to marry you, me, and Titania.  Obviously he’s grown up since then, but he still adores you.  So, chin up, Ike will win and you’ll marry someone who will, if nothing else, be kind to you.”

 

Soren nodded, blushing despite himself.  As she left him, he took a deep breath to calm down and began the walk to go see the palace alchemist - might as well get some ingredients to make vulneraries, that was an oversight on his part.

 

He was surprised to run into - not literally, this time - Duke Ludveck.  “Prince Soren!  How wonderful to see you.  I have been looking for an opportunity to appropriately court you.”

 

 _This is my own fault for complaining that he didn't fake interest_.  “Hello, Duke Ludveck.  If you’ll excuse me, I’m busy-”

 

The man moved to block his path.  “Oh, please allow me to assist you in whatever your needs are.  I am at your service.”

 

“Shouldn’t you be completing the trial?” Soren demanded, probably harsher than necessary.

 

Ludveck gave him a cocky smirk.  “Oh, the wording was very vague.  I simply purchased a wyvern egg.  I am thus free to give you my affections.  I was thinking of beginning with poetry about your… um… … beautiful eyes.”

 

Soren scowled.  Well, if Ludveck was already done, then that meant Ike had enough time as well and, since he wasn’t here, it meant the idiot hadn’t taken the offered egg.  As if that weren’t bad enough, Ludveck’s tone clearly said _wow you have creepy demon eyes, how did I not notice that before?_  “I don’t know who would like that less, Duke Ludveck.  You don’t have to pretend to court me, my opinions have nothing to do with this competition.  So, move.”

 

“But-”

 

“I said _move.”_ Soren used the winds to throw the man off to the side.  He flew past Elincia, who was walking up to them now.  She covered her mouth with a hand even as Ludveck stood up, brushed himself off, bit his tongue, and stormed off.

 

“I think we just became best friends,” she said with a giggle once he was safely gone.

 

“What are _you_ doing here?” he asked, because they were not best friends.

 

“Oh, I bought an egg, and I was hoping to come talk to you,” she said, more subdued now.  “Make sure you got healing.”

 

He sighed with disgust and walked past her.  “I’m fine, thank you.  That sigh was not for you.”

 

She giggled more.  “I bet I know who it’s for.”

 

Soren managed to make it four more steps when he was approached by Lekain and Ranulf, coming from opposite directions.  “Oh come on!”

 

“Prince Soren I have completed the next trial and am one step closer to making you my -”

 

Whatever Lekain was going to say next was interrupted by Ranulf increasing his speed and taking Soren’s arm.  “We have important state business to discuss!” he exclaimed happily, dragging Soren with him.  Normally he would protest being manhandled, but Soren would sit through the most boring of staff meetings a hundred times to avoid Lekain. Besides, this was a rescue Ranulf-style.

 

“Hold!” Lekain called, huffing as he tried to catch up.  

 

Ranulf and Soren walked a tiny bit faster.  Ranulf had a little smirk on his face.  “I’m barely walking faster than normal…” he said out of the side of his mouth.  Soren nodded in agreement.

 

“Important business to discuss!” Ranulf called, pushing Soren into an empty room and slamming the door.  He locked it.  “There.  That guy is creepy as fuck.”

 

Soren nodded again.  “Yes he is.  Thank you.  Where is Skrimir, out looking for a wyvern egg?”

 

“Yes and no,” said Ranulf.  “He bought one in case he couldn’t find one in the wild, but he was totally into the idea of hunting wyverns and he won’t be back for awhile.”

 

Soren clenched his fists.  “Goddess damnit, Ike!   _Even Skrimir knew to buy one!_ ”  

 

Ranulf just laughed.  “I think it's adorable. He wants to do things the right way, meaning the way most likely to be difficult and end up with him being severely injured. He's old-fashioned like that.”  He then gave Soren a once over and scowled. “Damn it, hate it when I'm right. Are you okay?”

 

  

“What?”

 

 

"You were injured. Probably a lot more than you are right now, no doubt. I suspected it but hoped it wasn't true." Ranulf's ears pinned back and he let out an unhappy noise under his breath that was almost a growl.

 

 

Soren scowled more.  “How did you know?”  Shit shit shit.  If Ranulf knew, who else did?  He was getting weaker with his tells.

 

 

"I could tell your father's type and I can smell your bruising.  I won't tell anyone if you don't want me to. How… can I help?" “You can help by minding your business,” Soren snapped back, beginning to pace and tug the end of his hair.  “This has nothing to do with you.”

 

 

Ranulf shook his head. "Nope, not gonna scare me away. I am used to dealing with the likes of Caineghis and Skrimir, who literally snap when very angry. And plus you're engaged to Ike, who’s… a friend.  Besides, we're friends too."

 

 

“I’m not engaged to Ike, we’re not friends and if my mother finds out...!”  Soren was tugging harder.  How could he mask the scent of bruising?  

 

 

Ranulf hugged him. "Soren, relax."  Soren froze.  The hug was tentative, but still definitely a hug.  “I'll release you if you want, but I don’t want you to hurt yourself." His voice was as gentle as his hold.

 

 

Soren stared at him.  “Did Ike tell you that?”

 

 

"Tell me what? I told you I could smell it. You want me to let you go? Also we are too friends. I just helped you avoid a pompous boil."

 

 

He took a deep breath. “Yes, let me go. And never mention any of this conversation to anyone.”

 

 

Ranulf released him. "I'm sorry," he said again, ears sliding down instead of back.  "I’m sure you're thinking that Diplomatic Ranulf can't do much, but you should know that plain old me will always be there should you need anything. And it will not happen around me."

 

 

Soren took another breath. Breathing was necessary but not coming automatically.  “It’s… it’s just me, and only when he’s very angry.  If my mother finds out, I don’t know what would happen, but it would be nothing good.”  He would die before admitting he hoped his mother didn’t know.  Because if she did know and didn’t care, that was worse.

 

 

Ranulf nodded. "I am sorry. It doesn't surprise me you shield Pelleas."

 

“Pelleas is less aggravating than I am.”

 

"He's less blunt and also sees the world myopically.  It’s why he gets along with people.”

 

“It’s endearing.  Regardless, it’s fine and I’m fine.”

 

 

"I'm glad you're fine, but I won't agree that it is. Does Ike know?"

 

 

Soren nodded. “I’ve been handling this most of my life.  Ike knows because he has no sense of privacy.”

 

 

"I’m glad he knows. And I wasn't trying to intrude on your privacy just now..." He tried a small sideways grin. "You'll know it when I am!"

 

Soren snorted.  “No wonder you and Ike are friends.”

 

"We're both charming? Well, at least I am."

 

”No.”

 

"Ah, you mean the sense of justice. Well his is much deeper ingrained, but there are some things I won't allow,” Ranulf said before twitching his ears. “I hope you come to see me as a friend even if you insist we aren't now.  Ike needs all the people in his corner he can get and it's better if we're friends too."

 

“You’re both pushy and invasive but somewhat innocent about it.”  Soren opened the door and peered out.  “The coast is clear, thank you.”  He slipped out, running from the sappiness.

 

He managed to make it about a hallway away when he ran into Skrimir. Karma, delivered instantly.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Haar landed, and Ike hopped off the wyvern to go puke in some scraggly bushes.  Haar didn’t seem to notice as he shrugged and pointed to the distance.  “I can see a nest from here...  But someone’s already there.”

 

Ike stood up, drawing his sword.  He’d been hoping for a break, but oh well.  He wiped his mouth and marched up, but felt equal parts relieved and nervous as he saw who was there: tall and strong with a long thick braid of bright  crimson hair, there was no question that Titania was here on the mountaintop, engaged in battle with a wyvern.

 

Titania had come to Daein over ten years ago, seeking tutelage under General Gawain.  Despite being only sixteen at the time, Gawain had seen her promise and actually accepted her.  She never officially stopped being his apprentice, but she tended to come and go, exploring Tellius and working as a mercenary for whoever needed her help.  Ike saw her as a sort of older sister, although he also kind of had a crush on her.  It was complicated.

 

He ran forward to help, but she reinforced why he admired her because she swiftly overpowered the beast and cut off its head with her ax.  “Hi Ike! What are you doing up here?”

 

Ike walked up to her.  She was covered in sizzling blood, but otherwise uninjured.  “Hi yourself!  I’m here for the tournament.  What are _you_ doing up here?  You’re not going to compete too, are you?”  He was joking, but not joking.

 

“Tournament?  I was hired by villagers to cull the local wyvern population.”

 

He let out a sigh of relief.  “So badass.  Well you know Soren, right?  His dad started a tournament to marry him.”  He walked over to the nest and picked up an egg.  “This is the latest trial.”  

 

“Awww.”  Titania smiled.  “That’s adorable!  But I feel like I missed a lot.  This was my last wyvern, I might as well go with you and catch up with the family.”

 

“Great!  Hang on.”  He started walking back to Haar.  “Hey, this is my sister and she’s coming with us!”

 

“Awww,” said Titania again.

 

Haar sighed and looked at his wyvern, who hid its face in a wing.  Haar looked back to Ike.  “He just watched her decapitate a cousin.  He’s not flying her anywhere.”

 

She winced.  “Sorry.  But I have my horse just out of sight anyway.”

 

Ike felt a flickering of hope.  “Any chance your horse seats two?”

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Ah, little one!  I have returned from the fourth trial.  I think I might ask your father to increase the difficulty of the trials.  Oh, this is for you.”  Skrimir dropped a dead wyvern at Soren’s feet, purring.

 

Soren just stared.  “What am I supposed to do with that?” he asked at length.  

 

“It’s a gift.”

 

“Uh, thank you? For the... dead lizard…”

 

Skrimir purred harder. “It is a gift for you,” he said again.  “Do the beorc kiss to show affection?”

 

Soren jumped a little.   _Really,_ did he really just ask that?  A part of him felt flattered, part of him rolled his eyes at the disingenuousness of hitting on him so brazenly, and the rest was mindful that he had a boyfriend, even if Skrimir didn’t know that.  He took a minute to think of an excuse.  “That’s not allowed in beorc society, given my status,” he said, starting to feel dizzy. This day had been too emotional.

 

Skrimir scowled.  “What part of it?”

 

“Public displays of affection.  It’s improper.”

 

“Oh.” He scowled more.  “You are an adult, that is absurd.”

 

“No arguments.”

 

So Skrimir kissed him.

 

Soren took a shocked five seconds of kissing before he fled.

 

* * *

 

 

Turns out that, no, Titania’s horse did not seat two.

 

When Ike got back from the trial with Haar - proud of himself for not getting airsick again - he was able to deliver his wyvern egg in time to meet with Titania coming up to the castle.  Before he could say much, they were greeted by Ranulf.  The cat began to talk to him, but quickly cut himself off when he saw Titania.  “Why hello,” he purred, sidling up to her.  “I don’t believe we’ve met.  I’m Ranulf, the Gallian ambassador to Daein.”

 

“This is my sort-of older sister Titania,” Ike interrupted.

 

She shot him an amused look.  “I am Titania, freelance warrior and protégé of General Gawain,” she replied smoothly.  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ranulf.”

 

He took her hand and kissed the back of it.  “The pleasure is all mine, Titania.”

 

“You wanted to talk to me,” Ike interrupted, not liking where this was going.

 

“Actually, I think I recognize you,” Titania said, almost delighted, “If I remember right, you were serving as King Caineghis’ advisor when I went through Gallia.”

 

He covered his heart with a hand.  “While your information is accurate, I can only hope you were trying to not be seen, since I would never forget such a beautiful face.”

 

Ike grabbed Ranulf by the arm.  “Let’s _go_ , Ranulf!”

 

“So rude,” the cat mourned as Ike dragged him off.  “Farewell for now, Titania.”

 

“Bye,” she said, clearly amused as she went to stable her horse.

 

“What did you want to talk about?” Ike asked quickly to cut off any of Ranulf’s complaints.

 

He sighed.  “Yes, it is time for a Team Ike Counterintelligence Debriefing.  And lunch.”

 

“The best kind of meeting.”

 

They got settled with food.   “So, any luck getting Skrimir to drop out?” Ike asked.

 

“Yeah no.  See I had hopes that he was thinking ‘wow we sure could use a marriage alliance with a beorc nation,’ or even ‘Soren is a tactician and I don’t know what tactics are so I need him on my team,’ but no.  He was actually thinking ‘not only is this guy hot, but I get to show off how strong I am, what a jackpot!’”  Ranulf let out a long-suffering sigh.  “He’s in it for the long haul.”  At Ike’s dour expression, he added, “Hey, at least his intentions are good.  There are two Dukes and both give me the heebie-geebies.”

 

Ike was not completely convinced.  “Oh yeah, everyone is better than Lekain.  He’s weirdly possessive of Soren and it freaks me out.  But I really don’t like the idea that Skrimir, y’know, _wants_ Soren.”  He scowled at his food.  “You think it’s for real?”

 

“Skrimir does not have a dishonest bone in his body, for better or worse.  If he didn’t think Soren was hot, he wouldn’t be here.”  Ranulf scratched at his ear.  “Uh, I do have more bad news…”

 

“What?  More bad news?  What are you, secretly a black cat?”

 

“You’re such a racist,” Ranulf said fondly.

 

“I am not.  That was a joke.  Sorry.”

 

“I know I know, I’m just messing with you.  But… yeah, bad news… Oh, I know, let’s do ‘good news bad news.’  And I’ll even deliver it all in a good way.  Which do you want first?”

 

“The bad news!”

 

Ranulf put on the brightest, happiest expression he could.  “Soren saw Skrimir do a strip tease, and he clearly thought he was hot!”

 

Ike refused to accept that for what it really was.  “Of course Skrimir thought Soren was hot…”

 

“Oh sweetie.  That was the bad news.  Soren thought Skrimir was hot after seeing his hot body.”

 

“Damn it all Ranulf, can’t you control him?”

 

“Hopefully that’s a rhetorical question…”

 

Ike punched the table, denting the wood, and let out a string of curses.  Ranulf sighed and grabbed his hand, wrapping it in a napkin with practiced motion.  “At least Skrimir’s temper is good for something!  I have experience with bloody knuckles.  Hang on, crazy person.”  He went outside, grabbed some snow, and came back in to put it on Ike’s hand.  “There.  Sheesh, it’s not the end of the world.  I still have good news.”

 

Ike just stared at him.  “Skrimir’s getting a vasectomy?”

 

“Oh I wish!  Well, sometimes I wish.  Anyway, the good news is that Soren’s type is clearly _beefcake_.  You’re beefcake!  You have nothing to worry about!”

 

“That is the worst good news ever,” he said, watching the snow melt on his fist.  “Ranulf you are terrible at good news.”

 

“Iiiiiike…”  Ranulf sighed.  “Come on man, you know he loves you.  That’s the best news.  He doesn’t love Skrimir, he just thinks his body’s sexy.  But he loves you _and_ thinks your body’s sexy, and probably your face too for that matter.”

 

Ike still pouted.

 

“If it makes you feel any better, Skrimir’s almost as old-fashioned as you are,” Ranulf offered.  “He actually brought Soren a dead wyvern.  The look on Soren’s face was priceless.”

 

Ike’s mouth dropped open.  “That magnificent bastard!”

 

“Uh… what?”

 

“Why didn’t I think of that?” Ike demanded of himself as he began pacing.  “How do I top that?”

 

"It was kind of a dumb move, but a normal laguz one. It depends on your audience if it works... I don't think Soren is that audience.”  Ranulf shook his head.  “He was really confused.”

 

Ike nearly walked into a wall in his pacing.  “It’s a cat move!  Cats do that!  What did Soren do with the wyvern?????”

 

Ranulf was smirking just a little.  "Send it to the kitchens, which was a good move. He didn't take it with him so it wasn't like he accepted a token, but he also didn't throw it away meaning it wasn't an insult.  Soren’s a politician.”  At this point, Ranulf began muttering, “Which is actually… well it’s actually a good transition… to the worst news…”

 

Ike froze in horror.  “It gets _worse_?”

 

“Skrimir also kissed him,” Ranulf admitted.

 

Ike had to sit down.  “What?”

 

"He kissed him. Skrimir is an excellent kisser - but," Ranulf continued, "he isn't the one Soren wants to kiss. So you should get on that.”

 

This was barely computing in Ike’s head.  “Skr... Skrimir kissed Soren?  And he…  liked it?”

 

"Soren walked away after a moment of shock, so he again did not encourage him or continue the kiss.  He was clearly caught off guard.”

 

“Did Skrimir let him go?”  At Ranulf’s offended expression, he clarified, “That’s not a laguz thing, that’s an arrogant guy thing.  If he forced himself on Soren I’ll have to kill him.”

 

Ranulf sat next to him.  “He let him go, geez.  But you still need to start making out with Soren. Skrimir's a good kisser but the wrong guy. You might be an inexperienced kisser but you're the right guy, which will go a long way."

 

“Okay.  Okay.  This - But this - this is okay.  Shit.”  Ike started tugging on his hair to get his thoughts back.  Then he had to ask... “Am I being a selfish jerk here?  I mean... don’t get me wrong.  I love Soren.  But I also want what’s best for him.  And Soren is... humoring Skrimir more than he’s humored anyone else.  And he’d be queen, right? Queen of Gallia.  I’m... not able to offer that. I mean I entered to marry him, but also keep him from marrying someone like Lekain.  Skrimir is... not like Lekain.”

 

It hurt to say, but Ike needed to hear honesty from someone.  His mom and dad weren’t going to offer that, and neither were Soren or Pelleas.  Mist was definitely not, and Titania had only just arrived so Ranulf was his best bet.

 

"Awwww Ike,” Ranulf cooed, hugging him.

 

Ike flushed awkwardly.  “None of that.”

 

"Okay look, I am going to be completely honest so you'll believe me. It's true that, not counting you, Skrimir is the best bet, and that politically it would be nice for Gallia to unite with a beorc nation. But there are a lot of reasons why you are the better choice. Okay? First, let's be sentimental and admit that he loves you and you love him. You two are so shmoopy and cute that it almost makes me want to settle down." Ranulf pulled up a chair and sat across from him, looking at him in the eyes.  "But it isn't just sentiment.  Soren... Soren has a rough background. He is strong, but he needs someone who knows and understands him. Someone who has seen the scars and knows how to help. Who can do a delicate approach. Skrimir doesn't know any of that and his solution to all problems is to hammer them into the ground. He is caring and he could learn some things, but he would not understand when Soren hurts himself and he never would. That would be seen as weakness. Soren doesn't want or need to be Queen of Gallia. And honestly, despite how wonderful and friendly I am, not everyone would be kind. He is half beorc and half laguz, what's called a Parentless. He would feel alone, even with those of us who would be kind, because we really aren't all that bad, promise. But it would be difficult, because a lot of laguz follow Skrimir's attack first and ‘what the hell are tactics?’ mode. Meaning that they wouldn't respect him no matter what. Some aren't morons and would realize there are different kinds of strength, others wouldn't. But he'd be without his family and you, the guy he loves.  His whole life he has been surrounded by politics and by a messed-up family. He deserves a chance for a buffer from politics, AKA you, and he deserves happiness and you are the only person who can truly give that to him."

 

Ike listened and absorbed it.  “Yeah.  Yeah you’re right.  Yeah.” He nodded.  “Thanks.  You’re a great friend.”  Ike gave him a friendly hug.  “Okay. I’m going to win.”

 

Spirits renewed, the competition reformed itself in his mind.  Lekain and Ludveck were creepy but ultimately inconsequential. Elincia and Tauroneo might as well not even be competing.  They were here for what Soren could provide for them – personal power, connections, glory, or validation, whatever. Skrimir was here for that too, but he also thought Soren was really hot, _and that was a problem._

 

“So…”  Ranulf leaned forward.  “What’s the deal on your sister?  She’s sexy.”

 

“ _Oh my gods, Ran, no.”_

 

“The older one.  Not Mist.”

 

“Stop!”

 

“She single?  Not that it really matters, but I don’t need any jealous men coming after me.”

 

“We’re done here!” Ike declared, fleeing.  

 

 

* * *

 

 

Soren had to hold back a sigh of relief as he walked into the dining chambers - Ike was sitting in the “guest of honor” seat, which of course Soren found infinitely preferable to the other options, but he wasn’t allowed to show it.  Still he sat down, and was unsurprised to feel a hand on his knee almost instantly.  

 

“Sir Ike,” he greeted, using the title to remind him to observe proper public decorum.  Ike showed a little hint of disgust in his eyes which he quickly masked; Soren knew Ike hated protocol, but he was also too stubborn to give up on what he wanted, and so here he was.  “How did you fare with the fourth trial?  You obviously were successful, but I haven’t heard details.”

 

The dinner was stew and bread, which was no one’s favorite but at least it was warm.  It made the atmosphere comforting as Ike explained his adventures with the wyvern, and made it easier for Soren to hide his own displeasure with Ike: _I paid for a wyvern egg and you still went into the mountains?  Idiot._ Oh well, if Ike came to visit tonight, he’d just have to give him an earful.  

 

As Soren sipped his wine, answering Ike’s question after his health (translation: did he get his ribs healed yet?), he felt the hand on his knee slowly start moving up his thigh.

 

Thankfully the table was huge and solid so no one could see anything, but Soren was still torn between blushing and wanting to rip Ike’s hand off.  Really, _here_ and _now_ he was getting handsy?  

 

So why wasn’t Soren stopping him?

 

Ike’s hand - warm, large, kind - continued its quest, even as he said, “Your majesty, are you going to finish your bread?”

 

Soren finally grabbed his hand and stopped it.  “Yes I am.”  

 

Ike looked disappointed, and Soren consoled himself that it was because of the bread.

 

* * *

 

  
“Are you _crazy_?” Soren demanded, making Ike regret climbing the tree to visit him.  “I don’t know what’s more aggravating - that you ignored the perfectly acceptable egg I got you in order to put yourself into more danger, or that you thought it was a good idea to, to fondle me in public!”

 

Ike put up his hands in the universal time-out gesture.  “So I’m glad to hear you aren’t mad I asked for your leftovers.”  Soren rolled his eyes, so Ike pressed on, “About the egg, I felt it was cheating, and I’m going to do this all right.  When I win, I want to look you in the eye and have no regrets.”

 

“Idiot,” said Soren, clearly unimpressed.  “I’d rather you win with regrets, than lose without them.”

 

Ike opened his mouth to argue, but there was something really practical about that.  At length he managed, “I get that, but Soren, you're worth my best. You don't get it, I have to prove myself. You are-- Soren, I love you. I will love you forever and I will fight for you and do my best for you and prove that to you.”

 

Soren stared at him, and Ike wondered if he’d said something wrong.  Then a blush started on his cheek, and Ike _really_ wondered if he’d said something wrong.  He thought and then it hit him -

 

This was the first time he’d told Soren he loved him.

 

He wanted to hit himself a bit - really, so casually?  If Mist ever found out, she’d never let him live it down.  Oh well.  In a way that was more his style.  "I'm sorry," he still apologized, "I should have had wine and roses and candles or something, but, I do love you, Soren."

 

Soren’s face was steadily getting redder, evidenced by the way the birthmark on his forehead was disappearing.  “Oh.”

 

Ike wasn’t exactly sure how to interpret that, but he knew Soren well enough to know that he was overwhelmed and it was possible that he needed to be alone (in contrast to when he gets overwhelmed and can’t be left alone; Soren really has no coping skills).  “It shouldn’t surprise you, but, there it is. I'll, uh, I'll leave you alone, shall I?"

 

As he wavered on his decision on whether to stay or go, he heard a meek “Thank you.”   Ike paused.  If he was an asshole he could interpret that as “thank you for leaving,” but that wouldn’t be honest.  From Soren, it meant, “thank you for loving me, although I don’t know why you do, and I’m too messed up to know if I love you too.”  

 

So he just smiled at Soren, who looked alone and shell-shocked.  “Would... would it be okay if I held you for a little while, first? I'll be quiet."

 

There came the tiniest of nods.

 

Ike moved and hugged him from behind. He held Soren and tried to say 'I love you' with just his presence. It did seem to calm Soren somewhat. Chalk it up to the Power of Love ©.


	6. The Fifth Trial

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Ike and Soren finally get to work together

Pelleas was a master alchemist as well, although it manifested differently than Soren’s traditional application.  The man could brew basically any kind of tea, various coffees, and the one drink that made Soren want to keep him forever: hot cocoa.  Thank the Goddess for cocoa, and thank the monarchy they were rich enough to import the stuff.

 

Pelleas handed Soren a mug, then curled up next to him on his bed.  “All right, so, to make sure I have this all right, I’m going to recap.  Ranulf saved you from Lekain, only to be all ‘we’re best friends.’  Which is a lie since obviously _I_ am your best friend.”

 

“More or less.”  

 

“Then you ran into Skrimir, who got you a dead wyvern.  And then he kissed you.”

 

“I had servants take it to the kitchens.  Don’t tell anyone but some of the beef for dinner is not beef.  I ran from the kiss.”

 

“Then Ike upped the ante by fondling you during dinner, and telling you he loves you for the first time.  Which, geez Soren, you hadn’t figured that out yet?”

 

Soren heartily drank.  “You’re not helping.”

 

“Well I can see why you felt overwhelmed yesterday,” Pelleas said, drinking his tea.  “So, let’s start with the juicy stuff.  Skrimir’s kiss.  How was it?  Was it good?”

 

Soren sighed and buried his face in the blanket he had wrapped around him.  At length he nodded.

 

“Thought so.  He’s probably pretty experienced.  Bet you felt sparks and everything.  But he also didn’t ask, so we’re pretty mad at him too.”

 

(Not mad enough for Pelleas to give him the shovel talk, though.  He’d barely managed to get up the courage to threaten _Ike_ , who had been a friend for over a decade and wouldn’t ever hurt Soren, meaning the threat was moot anyway.  A big scary stranger was out of the question.  Know your limits.)

 

Soren nodded again.

 

“Okay.  And then we have Sir Isaac, eloquent as always.  Did it _really_ surprise you that he loves you?”

 

Soren nodded yet again.

 

“Wow.  Soren.  That’s just sad.  Did you think he was in the tournament for funsies?  But that’s you and has always been you.  I love you too, by the way.  Just not like he does.”

 

Soren gave his brother a wry look.  “You’re a dork.”

 

“And you love me.  And you love him.”  Pelleas petted him.  “I know it’s not exactly part of our family creed, but I know you do.”

 

Soren flushed more.  

 

“You’re just a loving little honeybun,” Pelleas cooed.  

 

Soren sighed and rolled his eyes, getting out of the cuddles.  “Thanks for inspiring me to leave.”

 

Pelleas smiled.  “So where are you going now?”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Ike focused on his footwork and the moves that he had memorized, throwing his sword and jumping to meet it with absolute precision… except the hilt of his blade landed on his head and he was knocked to the ground.  He swore even as his father helped him stand up.  “I need to figure this out!  We all know the trials are going to get harder and I’m going to fight one of the others, if not all of them.  I need to learn Aether!”

 

Gawain ruffled his son’s perpetually messy hair.  “You’re close, I can feel it.  And don’t fret so much.  It’s a powerful technique but I haven’t successfully taught it to anyone yet.  You’re the closest one.”

 

“I gave up pretty fast,” Titania offered.  She was standing off to the side, waiting for her turn to spar with Gawain.

 

“You’ll get it.  You’re too stubborn not to.”

 

Ike sighed and tried to ignore the goose egg forming on the top of his head.  “I need to keep training.  Can we keep sparring?”

 

His father smiled at him, but before he could answer, they were approached by a messenger.  “Excuse me, General Gawain, General Ike - I have trial information for you.”

 

Ike twitched, because “General Ike” was still new and half made him flinch because ugh titles, and half was _totally awesome_ to hear.  Yes, he was a warrior in league with his father (on paper).  Even better, his father was still in charge, so all the responsibilities fell on him.  Anyway, the fifth trial.  “All right, let’s get this over with.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

He was feeling significantly less full of himself as he began the challenge.

 

Retrieving a treasure?  Okay, he could do that.

 

In a labyrinth?  He had no idea the dungeons doubled as a labyrinth.  Creepy.  Ashnard was… eccentric.  Okay no, he was an evil sadist.  But still, Ike could handle it.

 

But the labyrinth had a _raging feral dragon in it?_

 

Ike knew one and two half-dragons, which rounded out to two dragons.  Almedha was terrifying and he definitely didn’t want to run into her in a dark alley, but calling her ‘feral’ was a bit of a stretch.  But he didn’t even know if she was still able to turn into a dragon.  Pelleas and Soren definitely couldn’t.

 

So, was it a real dragon then?  Or just another wyvern?  Ike actually kind of hoped it was a dragon, because _he was sick of wyverns_ , but-

 

He stopped moving, hand on the hilt of his sword instinctively.  He could hear something moving, around the next corner.  It sounded like a person walking, but Ike had been sent in first, and under the impression that he was alone.  “Hello?”

 

A person in a cloak came around the corner.  He took his hood off, revealing Soren.  Ike felt a rush of worry and relief.  “What are you doing here?” he asked in a whisper.

 

Soren whispered back, “I’m here to help you, obviously.  I know these dungeons like the back of my hand, and Rajaion is my uncle.  He might not attack me.”

 

“The giant feral dragon roaming these halls is your uncle?” Ike asked, doubtful.

 

“Admittedly there are conflicting accounts,” Soren replied, “My father claims that Rajaion challenged him to a duel and lost, and as punishment was forcibly transformed.  My mother says that it is her brother but he is not feral, he is playing a part for dramatic effect for the tournament, and if he is forcibly transformed she will eat my father in retaliation.”

 

“Your family is weird,” Ike whispered back even as he heard a loud growl from far away.  He instinctively pushed Soren against the wall to shield him.  When the sound faded, he glanced at Soren and felt a little bashful at the look of total adoration on his face.  “What?”

 

“Nothing.  Anyway, the treasure the dragon is guarding is my spellbook collection.  As long as I get Rexcaliber back, I don’t care about the rest of them.  You’ll likely get bonus points for picking out the best tome, too.”

 

As Soren talked, Ike was firmly aware of the fact that they were pressed together in the dark.   _No hormones, bad!  Not right now!_ he told himself firmly, then made himself feel better by stealing a kiss. With a small smile, Soren pulled out a spool of thread. “We’ll follow this through.  Classic, but effective.”

 

“Is that your embroidery thread?” Ike teased, then caught Soren as he pretended to leave in a huff.  “Oh don't be upset, we both know it belongs to Pelleas!”

 

“That’s right,” said Soren faux-smugly.  “Follow me, let’s get going.”

 

Ike moved with him, technically following him because he needed to, but really wanting to be in front of him. "The fact that you know this place well makes me angry," he said in a whisper.

 

“There are worse places to be locked in.” Soren considered that and amended, “As long as it’s empty.”

 

Ike scowled but didn't answer that. "When we get there, stay behind me. This is my trial, I will _not_ let you get hurt. As soon as you grab your books, you can leave."  He knew that wouldn't go over well, but Soren had sort of said he was there for them and not him and anyway he didn't want him hurt.

 

“That’s stupid.”

 

"Which part?" Ike asked with a sideways grin.

 

“All of it.  This is _our_ trial, I am _not_ getting behind you because the hope is that I will keep you safe, and we’re leaving together once we grab my best book.”  He was a bit snippy, but Ike figured it was mostly because the labyrinthine dungeon was not a good place for him, even if he did know it.

 

"Awww," Ike said. "Thanks, Soren. I appreciate it, though partly the trial is to prove my worthiness... But I am glad for your help and even more for your company."

 

But damn it, Ike was still going to be in front of him.

 

Soren sighed just a little.  “Your mother asked how I was feeling.  It made me think of you.”

 

Ike chuckled. "She worries about you, too. And how are you feeling?"

 

He snorted, just because that was Ike’s favorite question to ask. “Fine.  I’m glad I get to be more actively helpful, if irked I don’t have my magic.”

 

"You don't have to have your magic to be helpful. I’m glad your ribs are better, though. Too bad fighting your father isn't a challenge..."

 

“I would not be surprised if he makes it one.  He does enjoy showing off his strength.”

 

"As long as I could break a few ribs, I'd be happy," Ike said, his eyes constantly sweeping the dark and rather annoyed at his sight limitations. "How much longer until we get to the open area?"

 

“Quite a bit, unfortunately.  It’s designed so you lose hope second-guessing yourself before making it anywhere.”

 

"That doesn't surprise me. I hope he gets trapped inside his own mind game one day. Anything beyond Rajaion down here?"

 

Soren froze.  “Yes.  Not as big, but definitely not a rat or something innocuous.”

 

"Hmm. Ranulf, you aren't messing with me, right?" Ike doubted they were that lucky.

 

He closed his eyes to focus. “One, two... three... four... six, ohhhh shit.  We need to hurry, I need a tome.”

 

Ike pulled out his sword and continued. "Let's do this."

 

Soren was visibly frustrated even as he quickened his steps.  Ike could figure out why: with magic, an adult wyvern and its rider was a challenge but not an insurmountable one, so a baby wyvern was barely anything.  But as a normal person, against six of them?  And no wonder Ike had been sent to go first.  Not for the first time and not for the last, Ike hated Soren’s father.

 

But he was kind of looking forward to this, although he wished Soren had a tome or hadn't decided to risk himself. "So the eggs hatched, is that it?"

 

“Your senses are improving.  That is exactly what those are.”

 

"Great. Let's hurry as I don't want to have to hurt them," Ike said, sword-free arm at Soren's back. "So when you said it was far, how far did you mean? Should we run to the open area?" Ike's voice was quiet, trying not to excite the wee beasties. "I can carry you if need be, although I'd have to sheathe my sword."

 

“We’re almost-”  Then Soren skidded to a halt, throwing his arm out to stop Ike.

 

"What?"  Ike maneuvered slightly in front of Soren and then he was able to make out the large eyes ahead of him, glinting in the meager light of the dungeon. "Oh. Okay so, I distract him while you run to get a tome?"  Ike strode forward. "Hello soon-to-be-uncle hopefully! I am Ike and I'd like to get a tome peacefully if you please."

 

The dragon did not attack.  In fact, Ike swore it chuckled at him, even if all he heard was a bunch of natural dragon noises and a huffing sound. He glanced at Soren, hoping against hope that they were somehow communicating.

 

“Oh, he’s not feral but he is also on contract and has no qualms about killing us.”  Soren awkwardly cleared his throat.  “Nice to meet you, Uncle Rajaion.”  Rajaion chuckled again, a deep noise that made Ike uneasy.

 

"Well I'm glad he's not feral... But that means I'm going to have to fight him."  Ike readied his sword and strode forward.

 

Rajaion looked at Soren before he moved forward to meet Ike, but only a little way; he was too clever to leave the treasure unprotected.  Thankfully Soren was small and darkly colored, so he made himself as inconspicuous as possible in the hopes of sneaking past at some point.  

 

Ike leveled his sword and attacked.  Rajaion answered with flames.

 

Luckily Ike was adept at dodging and it missed him. He continued his maneuvers, being purposefully provoking in order to draw attention away from Soren. "Well it's a good thing you're slow or I'd be worried!"  Ike danced and parried and occasionally got close enough to get in a hit. Rajaion snapped at him and occasionally hit him, but was so far not trying to be entirely lethal, at least as far as Ike could tell.

 

"Come on, Uncle Raj!" Ike taunted when Rajaion looked in Soren's direction. The dragon snapped at Ike and beat his wings to try and knock him over.  Ike managed a hit and got slammed with a tail. He stumbled a little off balance and prepared for an attack. Sure enough, Rajaion snapped in his direction. Ike jumped sideways and hit his head with the side of his blade. He wasn't going to kill Soren's uncle or hit him too badly, not if he could help it. Most of his prospective in-laws already wanted to kill him.

 

Soren smiled to himself at Rajaion’s words (yes, Ike was cute, he really was) as he snuck in.  He’d make a decent thief.  The shelf - the entire shelf, they took his shelf too those assholes! - was there, along with a decent amount of other treasure.  Soren grabbed Rexcalibur and the winds came to life around him.  “Ike, let’s go!”

 

But Rajaion moved quickly, turning his long neck toward Soren and taking a deep breath.  Soren braced himself, but when the dragon released flames, it was Ike who was in the path of the fire. He had shoved Soren, and the book, to safety.

 

"Soren, are you okay?"  Ike’s voice sounded wrong.

 

“Ike!” Soren screamed, ignoring how hard he landed - he felt the flames lick him and it had hurt, but Ike took them head-on.  He used his book to conjure winds to blow the fire off and away, then another gust to send part of the treasure into the dragon’s face as a distraction.  

 

Rajaion reared back and then hesitated.

 

Ike panted, getting painfully to his knees. "Are you hurt?"  His free hand touched Soren's face, red and blistered. The other hand held his sword in a death grip.

 

Soren started swearing in all the languages he knew, which was all of them.  He had a vulnerary in his bag but that wouldn’t be enough and they didn’t have time for him to drink it here.  He grabbed Ike by the tunic, which was hot enough to still burn.  “You need to walk with me!”

 

Ike blinked. "Stay behind me," he slurred, stumbling upright. He did not release his sword and instead pointed it at Rajaion.

 

Soren looked at Rajaion, feeling panicked and helpless.  If the dragon pressed it, Ike would not be leaving this room alive.  

 

If he pressed it, the dragon wouldn’t be leaving alive either, but by then it would be too late.

 

Rajaion watched them. **"Is this the one you would have win, nephew?"**

 

Soren nodded, trying to place himself in the middle, just in case, but Ike was not humoring him and he couldn’t be moved without hurting him more.  “Yes, yes he is.”

 

 **"You care for him,"** the dragon said. " **Given your lineage, that is enough. I will let you leave with him and the tome, but I need to tell you something about your father. I would have told my sister but Ashnard is her mate for life, and I would not come between them.  And she seemed… different."**

 

“You’re allowed to say ‘crazy,’” he replied, almost ready to cry with relief.

 

**"Ashnard attempted to poison me.  I drank with him to 'toast our friendship' and I could tell by his expression something was wrong. I felt an inordinate amount of rage and shifted against my will, but regained control.  He feigned surprise and innocence,  and then hired me for this, which I took in order to find out more. The poison is not ready but it must not become ready.  My father will not interfere."**

 

That was a lot to take in at once.  “All right.  Thank you.  I can handle it.”  Somehow.  “Thank you. ... Thank you.”

 

Rajaion sighed. **"It is up to you to decide what to do. I will not go to war without Father's consent and he will not give it. I tell you only because I feel like you _can_ handle it.  Hold a moment and make certain your protector does not react to what I am about to do."**

 

“Ike, he says he’s about to do something.  But we’re not in danger.”

 

"You trust him?" Ike asked.

 

“We don’t have much of a choice, do we?”

 

Ike shook his head but stayed in front of Soren.

 

Rajaion roared, a huge terrible scream that shook the walls. There was a sound of furious claws scrabbling.   **"That will keep the wyverns hiding for some time.  Hurry up.  And...I apologize.  I was not aiming to hit that severely."**

 

Soren just nodded at him.  “Thank you!” He grabbed Ike’s tunic and pulled, hoping adrenaline would get him out of the labyrinth.  The thin thread still showed the way.

 

Ike stayed with him, stumbling. "Y' didn’t say if y' okay."

 

“I will be okay when we get out of here!”  He pushed Ike towards the main entrance.  “You need to go that way, with this.”  He handed him the tome.  “I’ll sneak out and meet you at the medical wing.”

 

Ike nodded, looking Soren over. "Get yourself healed." He took the tome and headed for the entrance. "Mom will stay quiet. Go to her."  Ike made it out, holding the tome. "Made it," he said to whoever was watching.

 

Soren took a few steps back, to make sure Ike made it out okay, then melted into the darkness once he heard Ike’s mother start doting on her son upstairs.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Ike knew that a judge had taken the tome, verified his win, and then set him free. He didn't know what any of them said except that he had won and he had made it to the infirmary.  He zeroed in on his mother. "Is Soren okay?" he asked in a whisper.

 

His mother scowled.  “Why wouldn’t he be okay?” she demanded in a whisper.  They were the only ones in the room, he was thankful she was whispering too, just in case.

 

"He was with me. Hurt too. Y'cant tell," Ike said. He refused to pass out until he knew he was all right.

 

“Ohhh.  I’ll go check on him when you’re asleep, okay sweetie?”  She petted his hair.  “You’re so cute.”

 

"Find him. Send Mist. Please," Ike begged.

 

His mother kissed his forehead.  “Shhhh, you rest.”

 

"Not ‘til I know," Ike said quietly, looking at his mom.

 

She sighed, knowing this wasn’t going to end with him sleeping unless she used a staff.  She quickly called over a young acolyte and had her report on the prince’s wellbeing.  Chalk it up to young love and it wasn’t suspicious.  

 

She sat back down, rubbing her fingers through that always mussed hair.  “You did well, sweetie.”

 

"After I know," he replied, stubborn.

 

“ _Yes_ Ike, I get it.  Give the poor girl time to walk.”

 

Ike allowed her to sit him down.  She stroked his hair and looked him over until the girl came back.

 

“Prince Soren reports he is well, your grace!” she reported, chipper.  

 

“Thank you, Laura.  Is that better, Ike?”

 

"Did you see him?" he asked the girl.

 

“Yes sir I did,” she cooed, clearly finding him adorable.

 

"And he looked fine?" Ike persisted.

 

“Yes sir, he did.  He said to tell you he’d stop by later.”

 

Ike nodded. "Thanks miss. Thanks Mom." It was then that Ike lost consciousness.

 

 

* * *

 

 

One of Soren’s wall was covered in a smooth surface, perfect for writing on with chalk.  He used it for times like this, when he had too many thoughts and needed to get them down.  He made a quick detour to see Ike (who was asleep in the infirmary), then to check on the status of the competition (Skrimir had been successful but he’d gotten lost, so the other competitors had to be postponed until tomorrow), and now he came back to get the thoughts out of his head.

 

The feral drug had been brought up and discarded as wasteful and impractical.  When had the project been brought back? How had it been kept a secret?  Who knew about it?  Did his mother know her brother was a test subject?

 

Was he…?

 

Soren sighed, pulling his hair hard to punish himself.  This should not be affecting him so much.  He was better than that… or so he thought.

 

The name of the architect was Izuka.  He was a host of bad and immoral ideas.  He must be somewhere in the castle or Nevassa.

 

How long had this been going on? Was he...

 

Soren grabbed a knife, rolled up his sleeve, and cut the skin on his arms.  He needed to focus, not let his emotions get the better of him.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Ike woke up in the infirmary, alone. He rolled over. Nope. Entirely alone.  Ike forced himself upright. Yep, he could walk. Staying upright was a challenge, but one he'd gladly face. He took it one step at a time.

 

Eventually he and the tree stared at each other. "Okay." He could do it without dying. Probably.  He started to climb. He was about as fast as a lazy sloth but he made it. He practically fell onto the balcony and let out a curse.

 

Ike shoved himself up, opened the door, and stumbled in. "Soren?"

 

“Ike!” Soren was staring at his chalkboard and he jumped in shock.  “What are you doing out of bed? Did you — _you climbed the tree_?”

 

Ike frowned; Soren’s sleeves were bloody. "Are you bleeding? Let me help." It didn't matter that he was barely standing or exhausted. Soren was hurt. He staggered to him and pulled up his sleeves.

 

Soren yanked his hand free.  “Lay down, you idiot!”   He pushed Ike onto his bed.

 

Ike blinked. "You're hurt. Please tell me you didn’t do it to yourself again."  He was worried and his voice illustrated that; it also illustrated his exhaustion.

 

“You got roasted by a dragon and dragged yourself up a tree!” he snapped back.  “What were you _thinking?_ ”

 

"You said you'd visit and you weren't there. I was worried. I wanted to make sure you were alright. And to thank you."  His sincerity was not a ploy, but it was the only counter to Soren's anger. He reached out for one of Soren's hands.

 

Soren snorted and grabbed a cloth to erase the scrawling on the wall.  “I checked on you but you were fast asleep, and I was told you would get better with rest.  You should have sent someone for me, I would have come.”

 

"I needed you right then. To make sure you're okay. Let me see your arms?"

 

“You’re like a dog with a bone, aren't you,” he grumbled. “Hang on.  Close your eyes while I get cleaned up.”

 

Ike shook his head. "Let me."

 

That wasn’t going to happen.  Soren discarded the cloth and counted his blessings - at least Ike didn’t see the writing, because he couldn’t explain any of it.  He went into the bathroom to switch into night clothes and put healing ointment on his arms.  Just more scars, who cares?

 

He tied his hair in a low ponytail then went back to the bedroom.  “You’ll stay here tonight, I can’t make you go back to your room,” he murmured in case Ike was asleep already.

 

Ike was sitting up in bed… well, leaning on the wall in an upright position with his eyes closed. "Come here."  Ike held open his arms.

 

Soren crawled on the bed and cuddled into him.  “I’m sorry you got hurt.”

 

Ike held him, slowly sliding down so they were reclining. "I'm sorry you were hurt. I know I shoved you hard."

 

“You got roasted by a dragon.”

 

Ike chuckled and kissed Soren's temple. "It didn't hurt that bad. What did he say to you?"

 

“He said my actions spoke for themselves in that you were my choice, and that I cared about you.”

 

"Hmm. Glad he was just pretending." Ike knew Soren wasn't telling him all of it but his eyes were ridiculously heavy. The exhaustion and residual body ache caught up with him.

 

“Me too. Skrimir got lost but eventually succeeded, so the others are doing their trials tomorrow, so you have tomorrow off.  Rest, my champion.”

 

"Y' stay?" Ike asked through a yawn, pulling Soren close. He would ask him tomorrow.

 

“It’s my bedroom. Of course I’ll stay.”

 

"Until I wake."

 

“ _Yes_ Ike.”  Soren sighed and got comfortable.  “Idiot.”

 

Ike nuzzled him in his sleep.

 

By the time Soren actually fell asleep, it was late.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Ike was comfortable and warm and he pulled Soren close, burying his nose in his hair. It was a very pleasant way to wake.  Soren was still deeply asleep.

 

Ike opened his eyes. He felt better than the night before and definitely more alert. He kissed Soren's hair and waited to see if he woke.  When he didn’t, he pulled up Soren's sleeves slowly and scowled at the new scars.  He should have been there sooner to stop that. What had he been working on? Ike glanced around and then narrowed his eyes at the wall.  Drug?  Izuka?  Huh. He'd ask Soren as soon as he woke but judging by the deep breathing, he needed more sleep.

 

Ike settled back down with his love and held him. Truth be told a little more rest was probably a good idea for him as well.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Soren woke up, too comfortable to move much.  He knew it was late, but the advantage of having such a structured schedule was that when he strayed from it, everyone assumed he was ill and stayed away.  He sat up.  If he overslept he’d get a migraine, and Ike had a family to get back to.

 

"Morning," Ike said quietly, opening his eyes.

 

“It’s afternoon, but, good morning to you too.”

 

Ike nodded. "Soren, I wish you wouldn't hurt yourself. Hurt me or let me help with your frustration." He said it gently, but it still made Soren feel shame in his chest. “Speaking of… what were you working on? Let me help."

 

Soren froze.  “I... I tried pulling my hair, it wasn’t enough,” he admitted. “I’m not proud but it’s also not like I don’t have scars anyway.”

 

"That isn't an excuse. I don't want you getting more, especially not if I can help you. I'm glad you tried your hair first, though. Come get me next time?”

 

“Okay. I can. Presuming you’re not dragon charcoal.”

 

Ike laughed. "That seems fair." He kissed Soren softly and snugged him. "So other than the fact he knew you cared about me, what did Rajaion say?"

 

“Can’t you let it go?” Soren asked quietly.  “It doesn’t concern you.” Yet.

 

Ike flinched just a little, but Soren saw it clear enough.  "If you can't trust me with it yet, okay." He sighed and sat up.  "I just... it's bothering you and I want to help."

 

Soren winced, as always rather susceptible to Ike’s subtle guilt trips.  “It is.... a long story, about one of my father’s past business prospects.  Right now it may or may not even be a thing.  I’ll let you know when I know more.”  He kissed him. “Can we just make out for awhile?”

 

In answer, Ike kissed him back, and Soren felt a short pang of relief.

 

(Ike knew there was more to that story, but he couldn't make Soren open up to him.  Instead, he would help him the best way he could; by loving him and being there for him and damn he really was cavity inducing. Ike blamed it on his mother.)


	7. The Sixth Trial

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Ike faces his fears and Soren has had better days (but worse ones too)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to continue thanking you for following along with this story. This chapter is something of a roller-coaster ride for poor Soren, so... **trigger warning for attempted (and failed) assault**. It happens at the beginning, and you can skip it if you need to.
> 
> And I completely made up birthdates for Ike and Soren, literally based on zodiac signs. But if you happen to know of other materials stating when they were born (like seasons or whatever), please let me know.

_Found him_.  

 

A cursory review of purchases from the castle alchemist (who Soren could easily replace, frankly, but that was neither here nor there) showed that there was a frequent purchaser who lived in the city’s outskirts.  Knowing now that the Feral Project was back up and running, Soren knew it had to be Izuka.  He grabbed his leather satchel and what he’d need to confront his old teacher before opening the door to leave his suite.

 

There was a man standing there - it took a minute to register him as Duke Ludveck.  “Prince Soren!” the man said with such fake happiness that Soren wanted to break his nose on reflex.  “I am honored to meet you like this!”

 

“You’re honored to be standing outside my suite waiting for me to come out?” Soren guessed.  “Listen, I’m busy, you’ll need-”

 

Ludveck was large even without his armor, so when he stepped forward to press Soren back into his suite, Soren had little choice but to move too.  “You _dare?_ ” he hissed, not used to this sort of deliberate disrespect.   _“Get out.”_

 

The man looked a bit manic.  “The next challenge is a truth potion, and I will get my head cut off if the truth is known.  No offense to you but you are means to an end, and there’s an easier way to end this.  You can fight me but we both know I’ll win.”

 

Soren’s body tensed in reflex, knowing exactly what Ludveck meant.  The man was incredibly arrogant to assume he was the first to think of this ‘solution,’ or that he could force Soren, or even that such a thing would obligate Soren to marry his defiler.  

 

Ludveck roughly shoved Soren against the wall, blocking access to his bag.  He felt a brief flare of panic - Ludveck was no Skrimir or Ike, but he was definitely stronger than Soren.  He opened his mouth to call for help but Ludveck anticipated it, sticking his hand over Soren’s mouth.  But in their movements, Ludveck’s legs had ended up straddling Soren’s.

 

Soren slammed his knee up between the duke’s legs, causing his assailant to yell in pain.  Soren then punched him in the face with a sickening crack - Soren’s knuckles broke, not Ludveck’s nose, but it was worth it.  It gave him enough space to move out from between him and the wall, get into his bag, pull out his tome, and send Ludveck through the door and into the hallway.

 

The commotion all but summoned Bryce, his bodyguard, and the matter was wrapped up rather quickly afterwards, even if it left Soren wondering what the hell had just happened.  

 

(What _just happened_ , Soren would learn as his hand was being healed, was that Ludveck’s plan had been to marry Soren, ingratiate himself to Ashnard, and use Daein’s forces as well as his own to conquer Crimea.  A truth serum would have exposed this fact _in front of Crimea’s princess_ , leading to his execution.  That is exactly what ended up happening.  Soren did not mourn in the slightest, and he doubted anyone did.)

 

 

* * *

 

 

Gallia was hot and humid, which was a nice change from Daein’s frigidity.  But Ike wasn’t impressed, because he was here for the worst reason ever.

 

Skrimir had won.  Soren was now legally his Queen and husband.  

 

Ike had trailed him here because he was not giving up, even though at this point, he really should move on.

 

“Ike, you really should move on,” said Soren, “and get out of the bushes.”

 

“I’mma kill him,” Ike grumbled, trying to hide better.

 

Skrimir looked at him quizzically.  “He’s still here?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“I’mma kill you,” Ike said to him.  

 

“Awwww,” said Skrimir.  Ike threw a rock at him.  It missed.

 

“Yes,” said Soren.

 

“Did he just throw a rock at me?”

 

“Yes.”

 

Ike threw another one.

 

“His aim is terrible.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“I mean, I’m not even moving.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Can I keep him?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Is that your brother in the bushes next to him?”

 

“Yes.”

 

Ike looked over, where Pelleas was sitting beside him.  “I just wanted to be involved,” he said.  “Ike, your family misses you and wants you to come home.”

 

“I’mma kill him first,” Ike said.

 

“Go _home_ , Ike!” Soren snapped.  “And Pelleas, geez.”

 

Ike woke up tangled in all his blankets.  He let out a sigh of relief; still in Daein, which meant the tournament was still going on, which meant he hadn’t lost yet.  Okay, good. 

 

He left bed and got dressed.  He took the invitation and sauntered to go to the next challenge.  He arrived at the location for the next trial with a sense of ease.  Ignoring the flowery language, the next challenge was basically an interview.  He had nothing to hide.  

 

There were two rooms: a sitting room that had a table with glasses on it, and an attached smaller room with a desk.  Ike was early, and the only other person there was Tauroneo.  

 

“Those are truth potions,” the man said, gesturing to the glasses on the table.  His own was empty.  “And Ludveck was removed from the competition.”

 

“Good news for once,” Ike said, sitting and drinking his potion.

 

An awkward silence fell.

 

Ike's brow was furrowed. He probably shouldn't say anything, but he was nothing if not direct, and this was a golden opportunity to figure out what the heck Tauroneo was doing here.  “I… didn't think you liked Soren in that way. I didn't think you were out for power, either. Which am I wrong about?”

 

The older man regarded him warily.  “Neither.”

 

“Okay… well… then why? I love him, I want to protect him and to give him the best choice. I know he wouldn't marry if possible but if he is going to, it should be someone who loves him.”

 

The knight scowled, not looking at him.  “I have known Prince Soren since he was born.  His life has not been easy.  If I win, I can assure he is comfortable and well provided for at my estate, as well as away from his father.  He would no longer be a political pawn, and I am not interested in... carnality, so I would never hurt him either.  That is more than I can say for most of the competitors.  That is all.”

 

Ike's eyes widened. "Do you think _I_ would hurt him?”

 

Tauroneo shook his head.  “No, but I didn’t believe you would make it this far.  You may be Gawain’s son, but you’re still just a boy.”  He sighed.  “Not that I have much chance of winning myself, but if I beat Lekain, I believe that will be enough, since Ludveck is out of the competition.”

 

“Oh I'm going to beat Lekain, don't worry about that," Ike said darkly.

 

Tauroneo laughed.  “You sound just like your father.”

 

"I guess I'll take that as a compliment. And I love Soren the way he loves my mom," Ike said.

 

The older knight slowly nodded.  “I see.”

 

"Nothing and no one will stand in my way. I will win this competition or die trying. Soren's happiness and well being is my sole concern." Ike was using his serious voice. Not that he needed to - he was under a truth potion.  Tauroneo knew he was serious. “I know he’d be okay in Gallia or Crimea, but as far as I’m concerned those aren’t options either.  Lekain _really_ isn’t an option, I just know Soren would suffer with that creepy jerk.  And… listen, I get your intentions are good, but you’re not an option either.”

 

There was a long pause as Tauroneo evaluated him.  Ike didn’t let anything other than steely willpower show.  “Very well.  I will leave the competition in your hands.”

 

"Seriously?" Ike's eyebrows went up. "Thank you! For trusting me."

 

It was at that moment Ike heard rustling from the attached room.  At once the worries set in: who was the interview with?   _Please don’t be Ashnard, please don’t be Ashnard…_

 

The door opened wide.

 

It was worse.

 

It was Almedha.

 

“Oh fuck,” said Ike.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Soren did not feel the expected anxiety as he let himself inside a tiny shack at the far corner of Nevassa.  No, he had what he needed - his tome, and a number of staves designed to deal with a dangerous, fugitive magic user.

 

The first floor appeared to be a simple, homey little hut.  But there was a rickety staircase leading down, and Soren knew full well that the basement was not going to match the main floor.  He steeled himself and went down.

 

Izuka was humming to himself as he stooped over a number of different-colored vials.  “This is what didn’t work on the lizard,” he muttered, “so-“

 

“Hello Izuka.”

 

The old man jumped as much as he was capable, turning.  “Who - oh, Prince Soren! How honored I am to meet with you once again!  How can I best serve your majesty?”

 

“I was under the impression that your pet project was _over_ ,” Soren replied curtly.  “Care to explain yourself?”

 

“Science is never over, I taught you that.”  He seemed to relax though, which Soren thought was incredibly stupid.  Did he think Soren was here because he was _impressed?_  “Once you opted out of the experiment-“

 

“I never opted _in,”_ he retorted.

 

“Details!  I simply continued my research in private and without subjects.  It’s been slow going, but your marriage will soon provide the breakthrough I need.”  

 

Soren scowled.  “How — oh.    _Oh.”_  In that moment, it all made sense.  “Skrimir.  That’s the plan.  Hold a tournament to make it nearly impossible for him to resist competing, make the challenges tailored to his skill set… marry me off to him, send me to Gallia, and you sneak in as part of my retinue.  You’d get an entire country of test subjects.”

 

Izuka chuckled, a dry crackly thing.  “You always were the smart one.  You get it from your father.  That was his brilliant idea!”  He turned back to his work, content that Soren understood.

 

Soren shoved the ramifications of all this into the back of his brain, because if he didn’t he would scream.  Instead he gripped one of the staves in his hands, and moved behind the mad scientist.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Ike walked into the room, feeling like he was going to battle instead of going to talk to his prospective future mother-in-law.  He wasn’t afraid he would say something wrong: he knew himself and knew she had no real reason to be angry with him.  But she was terrifying and could possibly eat him.  Rajaion had taught him that dragons were bigger than he expected they’d be.

 

Almedha sighed.  “Which one are you?  Eek?  Whatever.  State your name for the record.”

 

“Ike,” he said, sitting.  He felt a compulsion to continue, “Technically my full name is Isaac Bryce Greil, but I prefer Ike.  I’m only Isaac if I’m in trouble.”

 

“And how old are you?”

 

“Seventeen.  Well, almost.  My birthday’s July 25th.  I’m just about six months older than Soren and Pelleas, who were born January 5th.  Since today’s June 30th, I consider myself seventeen even if I’m still only sixteen.  Also, for the record, since we’re taking notes apparently, I don’t like this truth potion.”

 

She sighed.  Weirdly enough, considering he knew a number of felines and she wasn’t one of them, Almedha really reminded him of a bored cat sitting in front of a terrified mouse.  “You can calm down.  I’m not here to kick you out of the competition, because if I were, you would be gone.  Instead I am here to determine conflicts of interest, and to let you know the ramifications of marrying my son.”  She sighed again, looking disappointed.  “It really is too bad.  I wanted to eat Ludveck.”

 

“I hope you mean literally, ma’am, because he would probably taste like veal which is delicious even if it makes me feel guilty, although why is he no longer competing?”

 

“This morning the idiot attempted to assault my poor baby,” she mourned.  Ike’s jaw dropped.  “My sweet little mopsy was perfectly capable of defending himself, but the point still stands.  Alas, the Crimeans will deal with him.  Such a shame.”

 

“Soren’s okay?” Ike demanded, ready to leave if he wasn’t.

 

“Aww.  He broke his hand punching the man, but if Mopsy’s anything like his mumsy - or his papa - then it was worth it.”  She shrugged.  “Oh well.  So, Izak.  You have been friends with my sons for years, but have little to otherwise show for yourself.  What makes you think you’re good enough to be his prince consort?”

 

“I’m not,” Ike said automatically.  “No one is.  Soren is precious and amazing and no one could be good enough.  I will spend my life making myself better to be worthy of him.  I won’t hurt him either and I’ll do my best to make him happy.”

 

She blinked in surprise.  “That was a nice answer.”

 

He shrugged awkwardly.  He really didn’t like this potion; all that was sappy, even for him.  “It’s true.”

 

“Regardless, you are competing for marriage to a Prince of Daein and Goldoa.  Are you aware of the difficulties you will face should you somehow manage to succeed?  You will be expected to perform your duties as befitting a prince consort.  Accompany him on diplomatic meetings across Tellius.  Challenge any slight to his honor and engage in duels on his behalf.  Attend galas and other events here and abroad.  Provide heirs.  Take no other lovers but permit him to do so as he pleases.  Aid him in any way he requires.  Understand?"

 

"Yes." He understood all of it.  He even agreed to most of it. But lovers? Over his dead body.

 

“And that is not counting the issues he has as a person.  He is stubborn and acerbic, and convinced he is always right.  He is a workaholic and obsessed with increasing his knowledge.  He has no care for anything other than facts.  He has no emotional coping skills. He has an overly complicated relationship with his father that you will not be allowed to interfere in.”

 

 _Are you aware that your husband abuses him?  What’s the ‘business transaction’ that Soren was talking about, the one Ashnard did that made him so upset?  You do realize that all of his emotional issues are because you both fail as parents, and the only reason he’s as stable as he is is because of me, Pelleas, and my family?  Can you turn into a dragon?_  Thankfully Ike did not feel compelled to ask any of those questions, although he resolved that someday - when he was stronger and could keep Soren safe - he absolutely would.  “I love him and I will do whatever he needs of me.”

 

She waved him away with a hand.  “Well I continue to hope you don’t win, as my mopsy deserves only the best and you are not it.  That being said, I see no reason why you cannot continue.  You are dismissed.”

 

“Thanks.”  There was a deep urge, almost a compulsion, to talk to her about Ashnard, but he ran before he could.

 

* * *

 

 

Soren made it back to the castle in time to clean himself up, none the wiser.  But the whole thing had made him feel disturbed.

 

Pelleas seemed to know this, showing up at Soren’s suite with a thermos of cocoa before pestering him into cuddles.  “So, what’s on your mind?” the elder twin asked.

 

“What would happen if I broke up with Ike?”

 

“Nothing,” Pelleas guessed.  “Nothing would change.”

 

Soren tried again.  “What if I broke up with him, claiming I don’t love him and never have, and that I choose Skrimir over him?”

 

“Again, nothing,” said Pelleas.  “He would continue to compete, either convinced you were lying or trying to make you choose him.  Why are you asking this?  You can’t pull a ‘hurt him to save him’ on Ike.”

 

Soren sighed and drank his cocoa.  “It was a thought.  I had a… difficult day.  It just made me realize that he deserves better.”

 

“Awww.”  Pelleas started petting Soren’s hair.  “Well, you’re probably not wrong…”

 

“Hey.”  Even though Soren said it, that didn’t give Pelleas permission to agree so blatantly, so Soren gave him a dirty look.

 

“But in the end, that’s up to Ike to decide, not you,” he finished.  “Don’t get me wrong, if you’re over this relationship, that’s one thing.  But you can’t decide Ike’s opinion.”  

 

At length, Soren nodded.  “You’re right, of course.  And I knew all that.  But… ugh.  I have this feeling....”

 

“So what happened, anyway?”

 

“It’s time for dinner, but let me say it began with Ludveck trying to ‘force a marriage’ and then actually got worse from there.  I’ll tell you the details later, but I actually am hungry for once.”

 

“A miracle!”

 

“Shut up, Pelleas.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Soren was relieved that Tauroneo was gone - not that he disliked the man, but any less competition for Ike was always welcome - but irritated to see that he, once again, had to sit next to Lekain at dinner.

 

What the hell?  Who was in charge of the seating arrangements? How could he ensure that they would suffer? Soren sighed deeply and sat.  

 

“Good evening, Prince Soren,” the man said, his face that obnoxious mask.  

 

Soren was not in the mood to deal with his nonsense.  “Good evening, Vice Minister,” he said curtly as they began to dine, emphasizing the “Vice.”  It was sort of a pun, in a way.  “Congratulations on still being in the competition.  I wanted to ask you questions about Prime Minister Sephiran.”

 

Oh, that broke that fake mask in about a second.  What a delightfully easy target.  “What could you possibly wonder, what he puts in his hair?” he replied through gritted teeth.  “Because yours is actually longer.”

 

Really, he was supposed to be offended about a hair crack?  Amatuer.  “I was curious about the rumours that he owns Creidyladd, the most powerful light magic tome.  That’s quite impressive, even considering his other list of accomplishments.”  Soren smiled sweetly.

 

“With that creepy smile you look almost exactly like your mother,” Lekain observed darkly.  

 

“I of course own Rexcalibur, the most powerful wind tome,” he continued breezily, even as he inwardly rolled his eyes because saying he looked like his mother was about as offensive as saying his hair was long.  “I was simply curious how he acquired it.  Perhaps he’d told you the tale.”

 

Lekain leaned in close and harshly whispered, “One might mistake you for a pretty girl, but I have seen proof that you are a boy.”

 

Soren almost flinched at the comment and what it meant.  And then he felt a hand on his upper thigh.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

All attention turned to one side of the banquet hall thanks to a loud “thunk” followed by a shrill scream.  Ike had to resist laughing inappropriately:  it appeared as if Lekain had tried to grope Soren under the table, only for Soren to literally stab his hand with a dinner knife.

 

“I think that just makes me want him more,” Skrimir said wistfully, even as minor chaos broke out as people tried to fix this rather blatant diplomatic faux-pas.  

 

“I didn’t think I could want him more, but you’re right,” Ike agreed.  Then they seemed to realize what the other had said.

 

“I told you you’d bond over your similar tastes in men,” Ranulf whispered to Ike smugly.

 

Skrimir clapped Ike on the back as if they were best friends and not romantic rivals.  “You’re not so bad, for a beorc.”

 

Ike wasn’t sure how to respond.  Titania, who was sitting on Ike’s other side, commented, “And you’re not so bad for an accidentally rude laguz.”  She smiled at Skrimir though, which was better than Ike was managing.

 

“Not all of us are rude," Ranulf said with a smirk. "I can be very polite."

 

“I wasn’t rude,” Skrimir protested.  “The little one stabbed a man and it was erotic.  I was bonding with this one over it.”

 

“Don't talk about eroticness at the table unless you're quietly flirting with someone," Ranulf said.  He winked at Titania, and she rolled her eyes with a smile.

 

The lion prince huffed.  “These beorc have so many rules.”

 

“Laguz don't have any rules?" Titania asked.

 

This turned into a discussion on etiquette, which was great because Ike was still 100% uncomfortable with Skrimir finding Soren “erotic.”

 

Even though Ike definitely found Soren erotic.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The evening was slightly warm - not like a normal place, but enough so that Ike was training outside and Ranulf felt comfortable pestering him.  “Hey, more sword fighting?  Shouldn’t you be learning to pole dance?”

 

Ike stopped his intricate sword moves to glare at him.  “Ranulf, you are an ass.”

 

Ranulf grinned.  “Hey, your boyfriend clearly needs to get laid and you need to exploit that.”  Ike turned beet red.  Awww.  “Oh you sweet summer child.  My pure innocent dewdrop.  If you’re not interested in sex that’s a thing he should know,” he counseled, like the great sage of wisdom he was.  “Some people just aren’t, and that’s okay.”

 

Ike punched him in the arm. "Shut up."

 

“You could always outsource.  If Skrimir pushes your jealousy buttons too much, there’s allegedly a colony of Parentless in Begnion, I’m sure he’d click with one of them.”

 

“I'm not asexual! I want to have sex with Soren! But, it has to be perfect, and we have to be married."

 

“Ohhhhhh.” Aw geez, this was awkward.  Thankfully Ranulf was used to awkward situations; he was a benevolent hero.  “Sooooo maybe you need to step up your foreplay game.”

 

“Good idea.”  Still blushing, Ike hit him lightly.  "Let’s change the subject.  So will you be my best man?  You know, supposing I survive and win, and Soren says yes."

 

That caught Ranulf off guard.  “You.... seriously?”

 

"Yeah, seriously."

 

“Wow. Um. Okay. Sure.”  Wow, either Ranulf was so awesome he was being prematurely roped into a beorc wedding that hadn’t even been confirmed yet, or Ike had no other friends.  Oh, who was he kidding?  It was both.

 

Ike thumped Ranulf on the back.  "Thanks. So to change the awkward subject again, Pelleas is probably going to ask you about purring. Just as a heads up."

 

Ranulf chuckled, not surprised at that and appreciative at the subject change too. “You’d think it wouldn’t be so weird for him.  Dragons can purr too.”

 

"Dragons can purr? Interesting…”

 

Ranulf totally got the look on his face and laughed.  “You’re kinkier than you let on, my man.”  Ike turned red again. Ranulf loved trolling Ike.  It was easy and free entertainment.  Then one of his awesome ears twitched. “Oh, hang on… Someone’s having a fight and I want to eavesdrop.”  Ike frowned a little as Ranulf tilted his head to follow his ear.  “Sounds like Soren and his mom.  Want to come with?”  He wasn’t exactly confident in Ike’s stealth, but knew he would want to come.

 

Ike nodded. "Sure. Thanks."

 

They moved out.  As they crept closer the voices got louder.   “The whole thing, do you understand me? All of it is over!”  Soren was literally shouting this at his rather distraught mother, wary brother, and impassive bodyguard Bryce.

 

“Your duty is never over, Highness,” said Bryce.

 

“Did I stutter?   _We are stopping the tournament!”_

 

“Mopsy...”

 

“Don’t call me cutsie nicknames, you bitch!”

 

“Ohhh geez,” said Pelleas, looking helpless.  He ran forward and hugged Soren.  “How can I help you if you won’t tell me what’s wrong?”

 

Ike grimaced at Ranulf, who grimaced back.  Ranulf was hoping to overhear diplomatic secrets, not family drama.

 

Soren’s body was tense, fists clenched hard enough that Ranulf could see and smell the blood dripping from them.  “Where to start? Izuka and the Feral Project were still going, Rajaion was the most recent test subject, and the entire point of the tournament is to send me to Gallia so there could be more!”

 

Okay, that was a major diplomatic secret that Ranulf definitely did not see coming.  His jaw dropped.  And Ranulf wasn’t the only one caught off-guard; everyone else - Ike, Pelleas, Bryce, and Almedha - looked just as shocked.

 

The good news was that the blatant surprise from everyone caused Soren to lose some of his righteous indignation.  “So, again, the tournament needs to end.”

 

Almedha was the first to speak.  “Was?  You said was.  And I talked to Rajaion, he was fine.”

 

“I stopped everything,” Soren admitted.  “And it didn't work permanently on Rajaion. But the fact remains, the tournament was started under false pretenses, and-”

 

“What are you whining about _now_?” demanded Ashnard, coming out into the courtyard.  It made everyone go rigid, even Soren.  In fact the very winds went still.

 

Ranulf was pretty sure he would lose in a fight to Ashnard, but the good news was that he had diplomatic immunity and Ashnard at least had some sense of pretense about that stuff.  “Excuse me, hi everyone,” he said brightly, walking in, “Prince Skrimir has requested dessert with everyone’s favorite short snarky royal here, which Soren already agreed to but oops, we’re running late, bye friends!”  Ranulf dragged him off.  Soren was too confused to protest.

 

(“Izuka was evil?” Pelleas demanded in shock.)

 

Ike waited a bit and then he followed.  He gave Ranulf a grateful look across Soren before he put his hand on Soren's arm.  “Are-”

 

“Both of you get your hands off me,” Soren hissed.  

 

Both of them let go.  Ike tried, "Soren, you aren't pissed at us right now. Talk to me.”

 

“I am pissed at _life_ right now.”

 

"All right. Want to spar? You can beat me around if you like."

 

Soren whirled to look at him, but faltered at maintaining his anger.  “No, thank you,” he murmured, then went inside.   Ranulf kept following him, nodding at Ike to do so as well.  Soren smelled dangerous.

 

“Thank you," Ike whispered.  Ranulf gave a little shrug, awkward.  "You're a good friend. I would have interfered if you hadn’t.”  They kept following Soren; he was heading to his suite, which was a positive.  "Which you knew."

 

“Yes I did know that, just as I know it would have turned ugly.  But uh, we can’t let Soren be alone right now.”

 

"I know and he is really not going to like this.”  Ike pulled out a dagger.  "Soren! Anything you do to you, I will do to myself but worse!"

 

Soren stopped walking, hand on his doorknob.  He didn’t do anything, he just froze there.  Ranulf nodded in appreciation of Ike’s effective preemptive strike.

 

"You know that I mean it," he continued.

 

Soren started tugging on his hair, helpless. “How about we get you some tea or alcohol or something to talk about it,” Ranulf suggested, because Soren had gone from “righteously indignant royal” to “sick kitten” and it was saaaaad.

 

Ike went over, sheathed his dagger, and pulled Soren into his arms.  Soren clung to him.  "Yes please, spiked tea."

 

“On it.” Ranulf went in ahead of them to give them privacy and start making tea.

 

Ike nuzzled him softly but mainly just held him tightly; putting pressure over Soren’s chest was the quickest way to calm him down from a panic attack.  Soren was ridiculously grateful that Ike knew him so well. "You're okay."

 

“What did you hear?” he asked quietly, somewhat afraid of the answer.

 

“Something about a project, and sending you to Gallia?”  Ike walked them inside, not letting go even as he sat them down on the settee.  “Can you tell me about it?”

 

Ranulf walked over with drinks.  Soren took his tea.  “Thank you.  Ranulf, you need to know this for your country, and you, Ike… you deserve to know the kind of shit you’re trying to save.”  Ike sighed, but for now he didn’t argue, which Soren found relieving in a way.   “His name was Izuka.  A genius in a very peculiar way, so of course he was hired by my father.  He taught me alchemy, and Pelleas how to use dark magic.  Anyway, the man was very physically frail but, also like my father, interested in the idea of power – physical power.  So he began working on something he called ‘the Feral Project.’”

 

“That doesn’t sound good,” Ike admitted.

 

“It wasn’t.”  Soren sighed and continued, “As you know, laguz are stronger than a beorc when they are in their animalistic forms, but the transformation is temporary.  The project’s goal was to make it permanent, in spite of this breaking the laguz’ mind.”  Ike seemed speechless, and Ranulf was growling quietly.  “But he needed test subjects, and Daein is not known for our laguz population.  However, he had easy access to a half-breed child… if the drugs didn’t affect the child, they certainly wouldn’t affect an adult purebred.”

 

“He experimented on _you?_ ” Ike demanded, horrified.

 

“It gets worse,” Soren whispered.  Ike held him tighter, visibly biting his tongue.  “Obviously nothing he ever did was permanent.  Eventually, my father realized what was going on and made him stop.  He became my hero, and I thought it was all over.  Everyone was led to believe that the project had been scrapped… but instead, Izuka continued on secretly, without test subjects.  So when my uncle came, it was seen as the perfect opportunity.  He was given the drug and it did affect him and forced a transformation, but it wore off.”  Soren started shaking, and Ike tightened his grip.  “Around this time, Ranulf, you came and expressed Gallia’s interest in an arranged marriage, specifically between me and Skrimir, and so… my father… came up with a brilliant idea.  The international community would balk at a simple arranged marriage between a laguz and a Branded, so to lessen the impact, my father threw a tournament to make the prospect irresistible and made the challenges ones Skrimir would do excellent at.  Skrimir would win, I would go to Gallia, and there would be perfect cover for Izuka to transfer to a place filled with test subjects.”  Soren paused, then admitted, “My father also lied to me and said he wanted Elincia to win, so I didn’t see any of this coming.”

 

“Holy shit,” said Ike, gobsmacked.  

 

(Ranulf had to agree.  He’d been played and he had no idea.  That never happened. Well yes, he'd known what kind of man Ashnard really was and that he was a ticking time bomb, but he'd had no idea about this. Aligning with him had always been the latter part of 'Keep your friends close and your enemies closer,’ but this was… awful.)

 

Soren merely nodded, not surprised at their reactions.  “Rajaion was able to warn me that my father had tried to drug him.  I recognized the symptoms, dug around, found Izuka.  He told me everything.  I took what he had and I’m going to come up with an antidote.”

 

“If you didn’t kill him, I will,” Ike said quietly.  

 

“Oh I killed him.  After torturing him.  He had very high magic resistance so I had to bludgeon him.  It felt good.  But I almost...”

 

Ike winced.  “Shit.  I’m sorry.  You should have let me come with you…”

 

“He begged for life.”  Soren felt hollow as he admitted it.  “‘If you let me live, I’ll change my research, focus on saving your brother from his spirit pact.’  I almost let him live.  But… I just couldn’t risk it.”

 

Ranulf stood up.  “I need to file a report,” he said, “I - thanks, Soren.  I just…”  The cat shrugged awkwardly.  “Okay, I’ll give you more meaningful feedback later.  I just have to inform my King about this.”

 

Soren nodded.  “Right.”  Ranulf left, brow furrowed and tail spiky and puffed.

 

Ike took a deep breath and let it out slowly.  “Well, no wonder you’re upset.  I wish I could have gone with you.”

 

Soren sighed, frustrated even as he tested Ike’s grip and found it inescapable.  “Damn it Ike!  What will it take for you to finally figure out I’m not worth any of this!  You should let me just go to Gallia and fuck up someone’s else’s life!”

 

Ike scowled but didn’t let him go.  “I’ve failed you.  How can you still think…?  Ah, damn it.  I was going to wait, but now’s the time.”  He held Soren’s chin and tilted his face so they were making eye-contact  He gently caressed Soren's cheekbone. "Soren, I love you. I have always loved you and I always will love you. I wanted to marry you before the contest... I just didn't think you'd ever have me, or you’d be allowed to.  Here, let me show you something." He withdrew his hand and reached inside his tunic, where he pulled out a small drawstring bag.

 

Soren blinked and stared.  His heart started beating faster, even as his mind told him he wasn’t seeing what he was seeing.

 

Ike's fingers fumbled with the bag, but he pulled out a ring. "I've had this since I turned of age. It's for my betrothed and I've been saving it for you because I meant it when I said I love you. You're the only one I ever wanted to wear my betrothal ring. I love you. I would have asked you a long time ago if I thought you'd say yes.  But you've always said you didn't want to get married so I was okay if we never did, so long as we were together.  Then the contest happened and of course I entered for you but Soren, I also entered for me. I'm not that selfless.  I love you, I want you, I want to be married to you. Will you marry me?" Ike slipped off the settee to get on one knee and offer the ring.

 

Soren stared at him.  “Oh.”

 

"Not because of the contest, but in spite of?"  His eyes were so warm and earnest, and hopeful.

 

Soren’s mind whirred.  “It wouldn’t be a good marriage for you,” he admitted quietly.  “You’ll be a political target.  People will hate you for being the spouse of a son of Ashnard.   And there’s a good chance that as I grow older I’ll become as sadistic as he is, if I’m not already there.  Our relationship will also be reviled simply because you’re a beorc and I’m a half breed.   If we have children they’ll likely be cursed too - any amount of mixed blood is enough.  And my father will hate you for helping thwart his plans.  You don’t deserve any of that.”

 

“But I want it.  I want to be with you.  I want everything that has to do with you, don't you understand?  I love you.  And I'm already a target as Greil’s son, I don't give a flying fig what people think of me, you will never be your father, I’m not scared of him either, and I don't care if people have an issue with us or our children because they're stupid and not worth thinking about.   _None of that matters._ I love you.  Marry me?"

 

Soren nodded, eyes bright.  “Yes, yes of course, of course.”

 

They didn’t say much more for the rest of the evening.


	8. The Seventh Trial

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Ike finally gets to show off his smooth moves, and Soren really needs to get laid

Ike was on top of the world.  He and Soren were engaged.

 

Of course the engagement had to be a secret, and technically it wasn’t official until Ike won the competition, but Ike wanted to shout _In your stupid face!_ at Skrimir.  It was hard for him to control himself, but he managed.  He did still have a goal in mind, after all, and he was stubborn and more determined than ever.  

 

The four remaining competitors met with Bryce to review the seventh trial.  “The winner of the sixth trial shall select a card, enchanted so that it is random,” the old man said.  “Then tomorrow, he or she shall then face that person in single combat, while the other two face each other afterwards.”

 

“ _Finally,”_ said Skrimir, practically vibrating with excitement.

 

Bryce looked to Ike.  “The Queen chose you as the victor of the sixth trial.”  Ike was pleasantly surprised even as Lekain and Skrimir both protested.  “Come and choose your opponent.”

 

Ike wanted to point out a minor flaw: he could see the cards and the names on them just fine.  That was probably Soren’s doing, which was great, because he did not want to fight Skrimir and he liked Elincia.  He strode forward and picked the card that had Lekain’s name on it.  He barely noticed a light shimmering surrounding it that faded upon his lifting it.  

 

“Very well, then Ike shall face Lekain in the first duel,” Bryce summarized.  “The second then shall be Skrimir against Elincia.”

 

Lekain laughed.  “Tah ha!  How unlucky for you!  Very well, tomorrow I shall remove the weakest link from this competition.”

 

“Good luck with that, you worthless sack of shit,” Ike said before he could stop himself.  It felt _good_.  Lekain could dish it out but not take it, and he clearly had to restrain himself from slapping Ike.  “Oh, please hit me, I dare you.”

 

“Enough,” Bryce said, although he sounded as if it wouldn’t bother him any if they did get into a brawl.  “Recall the rules which state that if you hurt each other outside of the challenges, you will be disqualified.  Tomorrow you may hurt each other as much as you wish, but you will not be permitted to kill each other.  You may bring whatever items you wish into the arena.  You are dismissed.”

 

Lekain stormed out.  Ike gave him the finger behind his back, because he could be as petty and immature as he wanted.  

 

“I wanted to fight Lekain,” Skrimir pouted.

 

“So did I,” said Elincia, dejected.

 

Yep, Ike was on top of the world.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Not stupid, Ike chose to spend his day training.  His father was busy doing his actual job, so Ike took on Titania instead, with Mist healing their wounds.

 

“You’ve gotten so much stronger,” Titania marveled, smiling brightly.  “You should be proud of yourself.  But if you want a challenge more like Lekain, you should train with your mother.”

 

“I am not that stupid,” Ike retorted, which made her laugh.  “But you do have a point.  She’ll probably have tips.”

 

“If it were a popularity contest, you would win hands-down,” Mist offered.  “It’s weird because I keep running into people asking if you’re single and then lamenting when I remind them of what the tournament’s all about.”

 

Ike had to bite his tongue to stop himself from telling her just how not-single he was.  “That is pretty weird, yeah.”

 

“The truth is that stupidity knows no qualifiers,” Titania said solemnly.  She hefted her axe.  “Prepare yourself.”

 

Ike moved to raise his sword, but his mother rushed out into the training arena.  She was worried, visibly, which was so unlike her that it made Ike nervous.  “Sorry to interrupt, but I just heard - Ike, you’ll be up against Duke Lekain?”

 

“Yes Mom,” he answered even as Mist and Titania approached.  “What’s wrong?”

 

His mother hummed to herself.  “The rules? What are the rules?”

 

“No death, and use of whatever is brought into the arena.”

 

She nodded.  “All right. He will obviously have his light magic, but Begnion’s theocracy is known for their staves.”

 

“Staves?  Like the healing ones?” Mist asked.

 

Elena nodded again, pulling her daughter in for a hug.  “Yes, but more.  Ones that dull the senses, put someone to sleep… They have more, I’m certain of it.”  She looked thoughtful, before she finally asked, “Ike, I know you think you want this, but are you really sure?”

 

“I’m not giving up now.  I don’t care who I have to fight.”  He shrugged.  “Why are you asking?”

 

“Because I know you, and I know you often do things without thinking them through or without regard for your own safety.”  She let go of Mist and hugged him, tighter than usual.  “And I like Soren well enough, but I am your mother first; watching you getting into danger is difficult.”

 

Ike hugged her back.  “Sorry.  For upsetting you, I mean.  Not for participating.”  

 

Elena kissed his forehead.  “You have always been his champion.  I’m proud of you for this, even if it worries me sick.  Oh, and Ike?”  She grinned at him.  “Kick Lekain's ass, would you?”

 

“All over the arena,” he agreed.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Everything hurt.  It was Soren’s own fault - he’d been so caught up in the bigger picture that his father’s anger at Izuka’s death completely escaped his mind.  He’d been forcefully reminded.  Oh well, like before, in the end it was Soren’s victory: the Feral Project was over for good this time, and he was still engaged to Ike.  Let Ashnard fret.  

 

Hearing the announcement that on the morrow Ike would be dueling Lekain did nothing to raise Soren’s mood.  He wandered out into one of the courtyards - the one that no one used so it rarely was shoveled.  He plopped into the snow to think and get numb.

 

So, Ike versus Lekain.  Soren had hoped he’d choose Lekain - Elincia could fly and Skrimir was a beast, literally - but the matchup still bothered him.  Soren could barely make the stupid sparklers, so Ike had no real experience dueling against light magic.   _If_ Lekain used the standard stuff, which was not a guarantee.  Begnion’s senators had no qualms.

 

He relaxed his eyes and sunk into the frigid softness underneath him.  He needed to turn his brain off, although that had never been one of his skills.  But as the pain receded, so did his thoughts.

 

Soren’s relaxation was interrupted by Prince Skrimir, who came out and laid down next to him.  He said nothing, which Soren found simultaneously irritating and reassuring.  “What do you want?” he finally asked.

 

“We have a rare opportunity to be able to get to know each other before our betrothal, and I intend on taking advantage.  Ranulf… he told me of your discovery.  In retrospect it makes sense, that I was expected to win. You are certain you ended this… ‘feral project?’”

 

“Yes.  Izuka was the only one who had the formula, and the only one who was motivated to continue it.”  So Ranulf hadn’t told Skrimir about Ashnard’s commissioning it.  Very wise on his part.  He must have made something up to explain who chose the challenges.  “I’m working on making an antidote just to be cautious.”

 

“Hm.  I regret that I was unable to kill this man myself.  Still, you have my – and Gallia’s – thanks for doing so.”

 

Soren snorted, because really Skrimir and Ike could be best friends.  They had way too much in common.  “You’ve grown on me.  Like a fungus.”

 

A huge finger went to his jaw, gently pulling Soren’s face to look at Skrimir.  Soren was too numb to be fully surprised at the kiss which ensued.  His exhausted mind fired off a number of responses - guilt, arousal (seriously, not that Soren was particularly experienced, but the man _could kiss!)_ , anxiety – but his body refused to cooperate.  So he just laid there like a frozen fish… or, really, like a frozen lizard.

 

After about half a minute, Skrimir placed a massive hand on Soren’s sternum, making the latter wince at the sharp pain.  Skrimir stopped the kiss, scowling.  “You’re that frail?”

 

“No!” Soren snapped, because damn it he has some pride.

 

Scowling further, Skrimir pulled down Soren’s coat and tunic, exposing bruised skin (some sucking marks from Ike, some welts from Ashnard) to the freezing cold.  Soren’s brain was starting to come back to life with how this was absolutely a worst-case scenario occurring in front of him.  “Hey, don’t-”

 

Skrimir let out a growl.  “Who hurt you?  Your father?”  He got up and left, leaving Soren scrambling after him.

 

On the one hand, thank the Goddess he hadn’t automatically assumed it was Ike.  On the other hand, this was about to escalate unless Skrimir could be stopped.  But moving hurt, and Soren had short legs.  “Come back here!”

 

Out of nowhere, Ranulf appeared and hit Skrimir on the back of the head with a two-by-four, sending the lion prince to the ground.

 

That made Soren stop in his tracks.  “Uh…  What?  Do you just... carry that around just in case?”

 

“Nope,” said Ranulf casually.  “I store these around whatever building I know Skrimir is going to be in, for emergencies.  I take my job seriously.  And anyway, it's this or I fight him." 

 

Soren fondly shook his head.  "I'm sure he would prefer that.”

 

“ _He_ would, but _I_ wouldn’t.  My job is keeping him out of trouble, _not_ keeping him happy.”

 

“Oh - wise of you to not mention my father's involvement with the feral project." 

 

Ranulf gave a small nod. "It was the only way to avoid a war." 

 

"Yes it was."  Soren sighed.  "Do you need help moving him...?" 

 

Ranulf gave a wry grin. "Think you can help? I don't ask as an insult to your strength but rather because of his great weight."   He rolled Skrimir over so he wouldn't have his face dragged through the snow and then took hold of his wrists. 

 

"I don't... well, he's huge.  But we do have servants, I can summon a few."  Soren suddenly pictured trying to carry Skrimir over the bridal threshold, and he chuckled.

 

"Actually, I have an idea."  Ranulf adjusted Skrimir's position then shifted, nosing under his large body and beginning to move slowly forward. 

 

Soren gave him small applause.  "I'll leave you to it, then."   Ranulf gave him a 'you can get the doors, beorc' pointed cat look.  He snorted again and got the door.  

 

As they disappeared, Soren resolved that he would be better off spending his time helping Ike, rather than feeling sorry for himself.  Besides, if Skrimir found him, that meant Lekain or Elincia could too, and that was just trading physical pain for mental.  Besides, now he had an excuse to get healing that even his father couldn’t rightfully get mad at.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Ike’s seat at dinner that night was with what he fondly (and only internally, because again, he wasn’t that stupid) referred to as Greil’s Gals: his mother, then Mist, then Titania, (then Ike), and then Elincia.  Technically Elincia wasn’t part of his team because she was obviously on her own team, but he knew full well she wanted him to win too.  Not feeling particularly chatty thanks to the impending duel, and because the beef tasted funky, Ike just relaxed and listened to them talk.  

 

And, he couldn’t lie, he was also watching Soren across the table, sitting next to Skrimir.  The lion prince looked a little less boisterous than usual, but Ranulf looked pretty smug.  

 

“I’ve rarely seen a finer blade,” Titania was commenting as she looked over Elincia’s sword.  “This is a family heirloom?”

 

“Amiti has been in the Crimean royal family for generations,” said Elincia with pride.  “The day I earned the right to wield it is one if my proudest.”  

 

“It’s a cool sword, but I’m more interested in your pegasus,” Mist said.  “Where did you get her?  She’s a beautiful horse.”

 

“She’s technically a pegacorn,” said Elincia with a giggle.  Ike held out a fist and she bumped it with hers.  “She belonged to my great-grandmother.  Her name is Gloriana.  What about you both?  You both have horses, do you not?”

 

“My axe is Urvan and my warhorse is a stallion named Buttercup,” said Titania without a single hint of shame.  

 

“Buttercup... the warhorse?” Elincia asked tentatively.

 

“No regrets.”

 

“My sword is called Florete, and my horse is Sir Muffin Top.” At the looks from Titania and Elincia, Mist looked a little defensive.  “What?  I got her when I was five, and we had muffins for my birthday breakfast.”  

 

“Mist is a little spoiled,” said Elena, bemused.  

 

“I am not!”

 

“Mist is so spoiled it’s a miracle she can do anything on her own,” Ike had to say, earning him a bread roll to the face.  He ate it.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

_Healing, silencing, transportation, paralyzing, sleeping_

 

That was all Soren could come up with as far as the staves Lekain might have.  He wrote them on his chalkboard and wracked his brain for more even as he heard the balcony door open.  Like a trained dog, he smiled just at the sound.  It was pathetic, but he didn’t mind much.

 

Moments later, he was enveloped in warm muscular arms.  “Hi, my gorgeous and brilliant fiancé,” Ike said in his ear before he took Soren’s left hand and lifted it.  “Oh.  You have it on a chain?”

 

“I have the ring on my dresser,” Soren clarified.  At Ike’s dejected expression, he continued, “This is a _secret_ engagement.”

 

Ike kept pouting.  If Soren was a trained dog, then Ike was a sad puppy.  Soren patted his cheek.  “If I’d worn it today both my father and Skrimir would have noticed,” he said sensibly.  

 

Ike let him go instantly, turning him around to look him over.  “You’re hurt then?”  

 

“Not anymore.  I had to get healing or else Skrimir was going to start a war.  Normally my father gets irritated if I heal up too soon afterwards, but that’s a headache even he wouldn’t want to deal with.”

 

“Because he’d attack your dad?  I always try and you never let me.”

 

Soren stroked Ike’s cheek.  “You attacking my father would end in you dying and your family being executed for your treason.   _Skrimir_ attacking my father would end in a war between Daein and Gallia.”

 

Ike sighed.  “I hate politics.”

 

“Don’t we all.  So, you need to go back to your room and rest up.  I have a project that I need to finish before tomorrow.”  

 

He pouted more.  “I just got here!”

 

“The tree hasn't gone anywhere.”  Soren pressed a kiss to Ike’s pout.  “Good night, my sweet and silly fiancé.  I’ll find you before the duel.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Even after a lonely night, the trial felt like it had arrived sooner than Ike had anticipated.  But he was ready for anything.

 

Before he could go into the arena, Soren intercepted him.  “Here, Ike.  This is for you, for the fight.”  His hands were shaking even as he tied a simple cord around Ike’s neck and tucked a small satchel into the gap between his armor and tunic with precision, as if nothing was wrong.  

 

Ike wasn’t fooled. He took Soren’s hands in his, still miffed that his ring wasn’t on his finger (even if he could admit that Soren was right and wearing it was a bad idea).  “What’s the matter?”

 

“Nothing.”  Soren’s voice was calm, but he was looking at their hands.  “You’re dueling for my honor, so it makes sense I would give you a token to wear into battle.”

 

Ike took a deep breath.  “You’re somewhat okay with Skrimir and Elincia.  You clearly really hate Lekain.  Is there more to it than just that he’s got creepy mutton-chops?”

 

Soren didn’t smile, not even a little, not even at the word “mutton-chops.”  “It’s not important.  My favour will just help you resist his magic, that’s all.”

 

“Soren.”  Ike raised his hand and kissed the back of it.  “Please tell me.”  

 

He sighed heavily, but gave in.  “When I was ten years old, my mother and I went on a diplomatic mission to Begnion.”  Ike felt his heart sink, but he kept quiet.  “This visit was important for relations between Daein and Begnion.  And I was a haughty, arrogant thing; my father had recently named me his heir, and my mother - well, you know her, she went around telling everyone how special I was, what a genius I was.  It went to my head and I… was rude.  I… I underestimated just how much power the Senators have in Begnion.”  He chuckled without humor.  “My mouth got me in trouble, which it still continues to do.” 

 

Ike took his other hand too, squeezing for support. 

 

“I made a comment about how interesting it was that Duke Sephiran of Persis was the Prime Minister and Lekain the Vice Minister, despite Lekain’s ‘obvious seniority.’”  

 

Ike winced because even he knew that wouldn’t end well.  

 

“I was also so arrogant I didn’t think anything of him wanting to get me alone.  I assumed he was so in awe of my magnificent intellect that he wanted more time with me.”  Soren’s sigh was shaky this time.  “No ten year old boy can fight off a grown man, especially not if he’s not expecting to be attacked.”

 

Propriety be damned, Ike pulled Soren into his arms.  Soren hesitated before hugging him.  

 

Ike was going to kill Lekain.

 

“You can’t kill him,” said Soren.  “You can’t start a war with Begnion and get disqualified over something that happened years ago.  No one knows it happened, not even my mother.  I never even told Pelleas.”

 

“She was there, she should have kept you safe.”  Ike was going to kill her too, she clearly sucked at being a mother.  And Pelleas too - okay no, but he could punch Pelleas, just because.  

 

“And if she’d intervened it would have sparked a world war.  It turned out fine.  I’m fine.”

 

Yeah except for the obvious lingering fear of that mustachioed asshole.  Soren was _his fiancé_ and it was Ike’s job to take care of him.  He was going to kill Lekain.  He just had to make it look like an accident.

 

Soren sighed deeply and hugged him tighter.  “Isaac Bryce Greil, stop plotting murder.”  Ike winced at the use of his full name.  “That’s my job and it’s creepy coming from you.  Just beat the man hard enough that he’s expelled from the competition.  The failure will be worse for him than death, anyway.”

 

Ike was not entirely convinced even as his name was announced and he walked into the stadium with resolve.

 

(Behind him, Soren sighed again and began the walk back to the royal seating.  

 

If Lekain knew what was good for him he would lose to Ike, because he would not want to find out what would happen to him if he won.  Soren would make sure of that.)

 

He felt nothing but calm and confident as he strode into the arena.  Lekain stood in the middle, arms crossed and with a satchel slung over his shoulders and resting on his hip.  Ike glanced at it, remembering his mother’s words - he had his light tome and staves in there.  

 

Ike had his sword and his skill-- that was all he would need.

 

“Tah ha ha! Laughable boy! Soren couldn't have had a worse option for marriage!” Lekain stood with the two (shoulder flaps?) of his robe flapping behind him as if he were a demented insect.

 

“Yeah, whoever would have you for a husband would've made a huge mistake.” Ike readied his stance.

 

“It is my right! My right alone to wed him!”

 

Ike snorted. “Not yet and only over my dead body.”

 

“I am Lekain, Duke of Gaddos, the one and only! It is I who will have the prince!”

 

“You may begin!”

 

Ike quickly invoked Nihil in a shine of bright light to negate Lekain’s skills and then prepared to perform aether. He moved to toss his sword and -

 

The old man used a staff.

 

He’d expected, thanks to his mother’s warnings, that it would be a sleep staff.  But it wasn’t - he couldn’t move his entire body, completely stuck in this awkward position, his sword clanging to the ground.  The crowd gasped. _Damn,_ Ike thought, trying to force his limbs to move.

 

Lekain walked up to him, almost sauntering.  “I get it, I really do,” he practically purred.  “You want to impress your daddy and think winning this competition will prove yourself to him.  But you never stood a chance once I decided that the boy was mine.”

 

Ike grit his teeth, trying to fight off the paralysis.  He couldn't stand to listen to the man talk about Soren like that one more instant. He was going to kill him.

 

Lekain swung the staff around and slammed it into Ike’s jaw.  Thankfully he was not very strong, but it still stung.  “You see, my glorious plans take precedence.  A marriage between me and the boy will form an alliance with Ashnard, who is essentially an arrow that merely requires pointing at my enemies.”  Another hit with the staff, this time to the other side of his face. Still didn’t really hurt.  “The boy himself will be useful as a tactician. Or, if I end up ripping his tongue out, as a whore.  Although I might have to poke out his demon eyes in that case.  But I definitely won’t hurt that ass of his.”

 

The spell wore off, and Ike swung his fist into Lekain’s face.  It made him fall backwards and Ike used the opportunity to pick up his sword, only to turn around and have Lekain not be there.

 

“Oh wait, I remember you now!”  Ike spun - Lekain was standing on the other edge of the arena, drinking a potion from his satchel.  “You’re the fool who said you wanted to marry him regardless of his status!”  He laughed, a nobleman’s laugh that made Ike’s skin crawl.  “You’re just an idiot child, blundering into the machinations of greater men!”

 

“Do you ever shut up?” Ike demanded.  He had to get closer - he had no choice in that - so he took a deep breath and charged.

 

He was hit with light magic for the first time - neither Soren nor Pelleas could cast it, and his mother never would against him - but even he could tell something was wrong about it.  He kept running regardless, he was tougher than his opponent thought he was.  

 

Lekain was grimacing at how his attack hadn’t had the desired effect.  Ike noticed him reaching into that stupid satchel again, so, rather than take any chances, he pulled out the small token from Soren to help him fight off whatever was coming his way.  He felt drowsy, but he could handle it.

 

Besides, the setup was perfect for aether.

 

Ignoring another blast of light, Ike focused on the specifics of the move, all empowered by the sheer fury he felt at the complete jackass he was fighting.  

 

For the first time, he pulled off his father’s signature technique with no missteps.  He shoved his sword into Lekain’s stomach and felt no regrets that he may have “accidentally” killed the man.  Lekain’s mouth moved, but no words came out.

 

He felt sick and exhausted, burnt all over.  “Did I win?” he demanded of the announcer.

 

It was only after he asked that he dared risk a glance toward Soren.  He was standing up in the royal viewing balcony, with Pelleas holding onto him from behind.  At the worried expression, Ike saluted him to show he was fine.

 

 _(Oh yes, Ike,_ Soren was thinking. _‘I'm only terribly wounded but I'm fine, really.’_ If Pelleas hadn't been restraining him, he would have jumped over the balcony without regard for personal injury.)

 

“Yes!”

 

“Go me,” he said before faceplanting into the dirt.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

He was awoken from a dead sleep by gentle fingers rubbing over his face.  He forced his exhausted eyes to open; it was dark but he could make out Soren kneeling over him, expression serious as he gently maneuvered Ike into sitting up.  “Wha…”

 

“You’re back in your bedroom, it’s the evening after your fight,” Soren whispered.  “I shielded myself with magic and snuck in.  You won, but he didn’t make it easy on you.  The healers did a decent job healing you both, but my guess is you were poisoned by his magic and they didn’t pick up on it.  Here, drink this.”  

 

Ike was too tired to refuse, taking a small cup from Soren’s hand and drinking the contents.  It tasted tart, but refreshing.  He felt a coolness spread through his system, making his blood tingle.  “Woah.”

 

“Better?”

 

He took stock of his body.  “Yeah.  A lot better. What about the other fi-”

 

He was cut off by Soren kissing him soundly, replacing the potion’s tingle with a very different - and far more enjoyable - one.  For a minute the only sounds in the room were those of lips moving together and soft sighs.  Then Soren shifted to start kissing along Ike’s jawline and neck.  “You were brilliant,” he whispered between kisses, “idiotic, brave, wonderful, ridiculous…”

 

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Ike had to ask although he didn’t really want to.

 

Soren looked up.  Even in the darkness Ike could tell that he was intense.  “Nothing is wrong, Ike,” he breathed.  He caressed Ike’s cheek.  “I just want to reward my champion for all his hard work.”

 

Oh.  Okay.  So.  This was new.  And awesome.  Ike began petting Soren’s back even as his mind went into _We’re going to have sex!_ mode.

 

And at first, he was definitely into it.  He wasn’t in this tournament for show, after all; he wanted Soren in every way.  But there was something not quite right about this?  As Soren started removing his own tunic, Ike stammered out, “I don’t… I don’t want our first time to be you rewarding me.”  Soren looked up, so Ike continued, “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I want you a lot, but…”

 

“But?”

 

“But you’re not a prize,” Ike stated.  

 

They stared at each other, and Ike - who could always read him easily - saw embarrassment, disappointment, and sentiment in those garnet eyes.  “Oh,” he said, looking away and hastily dressing himself.  “Sorry.”

 

“No, it’s alright-“

 

“I’ll just leave you be-“

 

“I don’t not want you-”

 

Soren was out of the bed, but Ike forced himself out after him, stumbling and then falling with a great thump. He couldn't let him leave like that. But... he was tired and sick and… Well at least it stopped Soren from leaving.  "Idiot."

 

“You don’t get it,” Ike explained even as Soren dragged him back to bed.

 

“I get that you have no self-preservation skills,” Soren muttered.

 

“I’m not worthy yet,” he continued, feeling winded already, “When I win the contest, and, prove I love you.  Then our first time will be perfect.”  

 

Soren said nothing, even as he covered Ike with a blanket.

 

Ike closed his eyes, exhausted.  “You’re not a prize and I don’t need rewarded with you but I need to win you anyway. Well, I need to win your hand and prove that I'm good enough for it.  That probably makes no sense to you.  I swear it makes sense to me.”

 

Soren kissed his forehead.  He said something, but by that point Ike was asleep.


	9. The Eighth Trial

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Ike faces his greatest challenge yet, and Soren gets a reality check

“This tournament is in danger of continuing past the point of amusement,” Ashnard said aloud as the family broke fast together.  “Three competitors still remain, so how should we get rid of them?”

 

Well, this explained the summons to dine as an actual family.  It was a rare event, even rarer when Ashnard was the one to issue them.  Soren decided to not look a gift horse in the mouth.  “Elincia and Skrimir had a draw, why don’t we disqualify them both?  That would end the competition right now.”

 

Almedha tsked.  “It’s too late for that.  We would look arbitrary.  We need a very challenging eighth trial.”

 

Soren hummed to himself as he nibbled on fruit.  What to do, what to do… Something that Ike would excel at but the others would struggle with…

 

“I’ve got it,” said Pelleas, drawing their attention.  “Each of them has to spend time with Soren.  Alone.”

 

Anyone observing the royal family of Daein in that moment would have been able to easily argue their relation to one another, as each had a very similar and eerie evil grin.

 

* * *

 

 

Ike was training with his father when he got the invitation.  He was kind of excited as he hadn’t heard from Soren or anything tournament-related in two days, so it was relieving to hear he was still involved.  But the challenge…?

 

“Date night?” Ike asked for clarification, even though the invitation was clear.  His father was snickering, which was weird but a clue Ike wasn’t getting the full ramifications.

 

“Prince Soren wishes to meet and individually test the mettle of the remaining two candidates,” Bryce explained.  

 

“Two?  Who’s left?”

 

“Princess Elincia put in her resignation after her time spent with Prince Soren,” the man replied with a completely deadpan face but a twinkle in his eye.

 

Gawain broke into laughter.  “Oh to be a fly on the wall!  I can’t imagine what our illustrious prince did to make her quit so quickly!”

 

“All I know is she left in tears, proclaiming that the entire country of Daein could burn for all she cared,” Bryce recalled.  

 

“How long were they together?”

 

“About five minutes.”

 

Gawain laughed harder.  Ike felt kind of bad for Elincia, because Soren really could be brutal, but hey, one less competitor was always a good thing.  “Well, I accept.  He’s slightly more scary than Lekain but slightly less scary than the dragons, so I should be okay.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Ike collected his wits as he put on his nicest tunic. He considered wearing armor, but Mist naysayed that pretty fast.  “You look so handsome,” she gushed.

 

“Good, because I need to,” Ike admitted, then realized he probably shouldn’t have.  Because admitting it led to questions like –

 

“Why?  Trouble in paradise?  Because you’re in the final two and it would be awful if you broke up now,” she replied, standing outside the bathroom as Ike looked over himself in the glass.

 

Right.  Questions like that.  She was only a year younger than him, but she was his sister.  How do you talk to your sister about your hypothetical sex life?  Plus, that would also involve saying that Soren had snuck into his room, and that he’d done so to heal Ike’s poisoning… as Mist fancied herself a healer, she’d be upset that she missed that.

 

“We didn’t end on the best terms last time we talked but I wouldn’t say it’s trouble,” Ike replied levelly.

 

Truthfully, he wanted to go back in time and slap himself.  Soren probably thought he wasn’t interested in sex, and that was really, really, really, really, really, really, really not true.   He put his foot in his mouth so often that it was a miracle he hadn’t accidentally eaten the thing.  But how to tell Soren that without going into too much detail?  ‘I want to wait for the perfect time to actually have sex, but FYI my right hand and I become good friends pretty much every time I watch you walk because sweet Ashera your ass is fine’ would probably not go over well.

 

“It’ll be fine,” Mist said encouragingly.  “Just try to remember how Dad handles it whenever he makes Mom mad and he’ll forgive you.”

 

“So what, bring flowers, chocolates, and remember to grovel?”  Ike snickered and ruffled her hair before leaving his family to go to Soren’s quarters.

 

The sitting area was dark, lit with a few candles around the room. The drapes were closed, creating a cozy atmosphere. Ike felt himself relax.  Soren was setting up a table for two, with a full buffet spread out against the wall.  

 

“Wow, this looks perfect,” Ike admitted, referring to the food, the setup, and Soren’s attire - relaxed yet form-fitting silks that looked incredibly comfortable and yet managed to be flattering.

 

“Thank you,” the prince replied.  “It was Pelleas’ idea for me to spend time with the contestants alone, but I plan on taking full advantage.  How are you feeling?”

 

Ike shifted awkwardly.  “Can I…?”

 

He sighed with a smile.  “Yes, Ike.”

 

Ike grabbed his plate and started piling food on.  “I’m doing okay.  How did you get Elincia out of the competition so fast? You weren’t too mean, were you?”

 

“Actually no,” Soren admitted as he sat down at the table.  “I told her about my father’s intentions for our marriage.  He wanted me to be an inside agent to make conquering Crimea easier.  We pretended that I so offended her she had no choice but to quit, and she went home to warn her parents.”

 

Ike sat too, plate full.  “You’re such a softy.”

 

“I am not.”

 

“Soooooo,” he asked as he scarfed down all his favorite meats, “what’s your plan for Skrimir?”

 

“Spa day,” Soren answered breezily as he nibbled on some vegetables.

 

Ike choked and had to slam a fist on his chest to clear his windpipe.  “What?”

 

“He’s one of those ‘I wouldn’t know self-care if it bit me in the arse’ warrior types,” he replied as if Ike was not dying (no longer on the outside, but on the inside!) across the table, “He’ll likely view such pampering as offensive.  I doubt he’ll quit, but he’ll be seething the entire time.”

 

 _And you’ll get to see his oily naked body,_ Ike thought with more bitterness than he expected.

 

Clearly Soren realized the way his thoughts were going, because the mage-prince sighed with irritation.  “Have I not made it clear you’re my choice?  I accepted your proposal, in case you’ve forgotten.  My hands are tied, and you know it.”

 

“I know, I know, it’s just…”  Ike ran his fingers through his hair, looking at the plate of food he no longer had as much of an appetite for.  “What happens if you don’t get a choice?  If I lose, you’re going to marry Skrimir.  And… that’ll be better for you, but not for me.  You’ll be with a stronger warrior who owns a whole kingdom.  So, jealousy.”  At the epic scowl on Soren’s face, Ike amended, “You know I’m bad at talking about my feelings.”

 

“Clearly.”  Soren’s tone was clipped.  “But if you honestly think that an emotionless marriage based on a political alliance is better for me, then I suggest you just leave.”

 

Ike shook his head, unable to bring himself to go.  “Sorry.  I ruined dinner, didn’t I?”

 

Soren drank his wine.  “Yes.”

 

Ike winced.  But there was still food, so he tried to eat.

 

At length Soren sighed.  He opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off by tapping on the balcony door.  Ike and Soren looked to the door, then each other, then back to the door.  When the knocking continued, Soren got up and opened it.  

 

Standing there cool as a, well, cat, was Ranulf.  “Hi kids, not sorry to interrupt, but as an important secret member of Team Ike I couldn’t pass up this opportunity to talk to you two without prying ears.”

 

Ike was relieved at the convenient tension-breaker.  “Hi Ranulf.”

 

Ranulf swanned in like he owned the place - typical cat - and facepalmed Ike.

 

Ike stared at him.  “What was that for?”

 

Ranulf smirked.  “Sorry, I could sense you needed that.”   The cat laguz swiped food from Ike’s plate and pulled a chair over to the table.  

 

Soren was still standing by the balcony door.  “Well, he did need that,” he admitted before sitting down too.  Ike wanted to protest, but, well, he kind of did need it.  “You don’t want Skrimir to win?”

 

“Are you kidding?”  Ranulf chuckled.  “First of all, you kids are crazy about each other and it’s super cute.  Second, some people might think pairing the stupid buff beast with the tiny beorc boy half his age and size is hot, but not me.  Third, you’ll melt in Gallia.  And fourth… hmm, how to put it…”

 

Although he knew the real reason was _I don’t want to work for you,_ Ike spoke up with a great hope, “You want Skrimir for yourself?”

 

Ranulf stared at him, dichromatic eyes wide and his ears not moving.  His cheeks puffed out, and then he began laughing hysterically.  “Ohmigods nooooooo he is like a really dumb kitten who is fantastic in bed but noooo Ike nooooooooooo. Me and - me and Skri - waaahahahaha!”

 

“I think you broke his brain,” Soren observed.

 

With effort Ranulf recovered himself.  “Sorry, sorry.  I’m okay, I promise.  Ike my man, you’re always good for a laugh.  Okay, okay.  So, what’s the plan for Skrimir for your day with him?”

 

“A spa day,” Soren replied, finally starting to eat again.

 

Ranulf considered that before nodding.  “Subtle yet kind of brutal.  He’s not the pampering type but he can’t very well say no without causing a scene.  I like it.  But do I get to be invited?  I’ll like it more if I’m invited too.”

 

“Yes!” said Ike as Soren said “No.”  They looked at each other.  

 

“Ohh, now I get why Ike needed facepalming,” Ranulf murmured as he stole more food from Ike’s plate.  

 

“You’re going to be alone with him?” Ike demanded of Soren.  It was almost a relief to be angry for a legitimate reason this time.

 

“Except for the spa staff, yes,” Soren replied, expression neutral.

 

Ike looked to Ranulf for support.  “It’s not weird that I’m not comfortable with that idea, is it?  Because I’m really not comfortable with that!”

 

“The whole trial is spending alone time with me,” Soren pointed out.  “You were doing that until Ranulf showed up.  With the spa staff present I’ll be less alone with Skrimir than I was with you.  Are you suggesting that I’ll be so overcome with lust that I’ll jump him the minute we’re not supervised?”

 

"I trust you,” Ike replied. "Of course I do. It's _him_ I don't trust. I mean would you want, I don't know, Elincia or or… Ranulf, parading around me naked!"

 

Ranulf laughed again, nearly choking. "I am irresistible, it's true."  They both ignored him.

 

Soren huffed a little.  “‘Parading’ is a strong term...” he said quietly, which was how Ike knew he won that point.  “Besides, it’s... it’s not as bad as you’re imagining.  I doubt he’ll be nude, and I certainly won’t be.  And Skrimir doesn’t _actually_ desire me beyond forming a political alliance, so.  It’s not so bad.”

 

"If I paraded around naked, no one could resist me," Ranulf continued, unable to help himself. "Buuut I have to make a correction. Skrimir does ‘desire you,’ as you put it, Soren. Immensely. He wants to mate with you. Over and over and over, as far as I can tell.  It's a compliment, actually, seeing as how he only would take the best for his mate. I know you’re only kind of into him, but he is definitely into you."

 

There was dead silence for a moment until...

 

"I _told_ you!” Ike said, pounding the table with a fist. " _I told you_."

 

Judging from Soren’s face, he truly hadn’t believed any of Skrimir’s overtures.  He was bright red, so much the brand on his forehead wasn’t visible anymore.  And the normally eloquent mage could only manage a tiny “Oh.”

 

Ike lowered his voice with a great deal of effort. "I knew he did. Just… be careful."

 

Ranulf, great sensitive being he was, seemed to realize he had put that a deal firmly. "He wouldn't hurt you. Force you. I didn't mean that. Just… be aware of what you say or do when semi-clothed. Laguz have their own… signals."

 

Soren flailed a bit before tugging on the ends of his hair - a clear sign he was overwhelmed.  “Okay,” he squeaked, before he calmly got up and walked into his suite’s bathroom, closing the door and locking it loudly.

 

Ike had been feeling kind of smug with the validation, but that started fading.  “Uh, how do I interpret that?”

 

Ranulf gave his friend what he hoped was a reassuring smile. "He needs time to process. Give him a few minutes then knock and ask if you can come in. If he lets you, just go and hold him a minute. Do _not_ gloat or bring up Skrimir again. Just my opinion."

 

Ike shrugged and continued eating.  “Good idea.”

 

“Although, I don’t know why you’re so smug,” Ranulf admitted as he took Soren’s seat to eat his dinner.  “Up to now, Soren’s clearly been thinking that Skrimir’s interest in him is political so he’s been able to ignore it.  That’s adorable, to think Skrimir cares about politics, but that’s not the point.”

 

Ike’s mouth was full of delicious potatoes.  “What is the point?”

 

“Before, Skrimir was a foreign prince with an awesome body and country who was just sort of here.  Now Skrimir is a foreign prince with an awesome body and country, who explicitly and desperately wants him,” Ranulf spelled out. “Sexually.”

 

Ike froze mid-chew.

 

“Their marriage won’t be spark-less,” Ranulf continued, driving the point home.  “That’s pretty special in the world of politics.  And it’s flattering to have someone that into you, think you’re that hot they’d come across the continent to bone you.”  Ranulf started drinking Soren’s wine.  “Especially when your secret boyfriend won’t put out…”

 

"Shit,” Ike said suddenly. "Oh _shit_ ,” he added more fervently.

 

"Yeah," Ranulf agreed cheerfully. "Buuuut Soren's not _really_ interested in Skrimir and you've made it clear you're very interested in Soren, right?"

 

Ike was about to vehemently say _yes_ except - “Oh no, oh no oh no.”

 

“Oh no?”

 

“Oh no.”

 

"What kind of 'oh no' are we talking about?"

 

“An ‘ohhhhh no’ oh no.  He may have tried to seduce me and I may have rejected him, like two days ago, literally the last time we saw each other.”

 

Ranulf blinked. "Why would you do that? That makes no sense."

 

"Because he was only doing it since I beat up a guy who assaulted him.  He was all ‘I need to reward my champion’ and sex isn’t a reward and he isn’t a prize, when we have sex for the first time it’ll be romantic and meaningful and quit snickering!”

 

“Gosh you’re cute,” Ranulf said, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes.  “So young and cute.”

 

“What do I do?!”

 

“I don’t know man, anything you say about it now will come off like you’re lying and trying to upstage Skrimir.  Your timing was just awful. Maybe stick to the comforting him thing and letting him know you love him that way..."

 

“I do want to have sex with him, though,” Ike said petulantly.

 

“Uh, good for you, kiddo.  What are you doing still sitting here?  Get in there.”  

 

Ike got up and walked to knock on the bathroom door.  Once he was gone, Ranulf pulled his plate over next to Soren's. No sense in wasting good food, and while their date night was ruined, Ranulf’s appetite sure wasn’t.

 

Ike knocked. "Soren? Please let me in..."

 

“No.”

 

He frowned. "Pleaaaaase?" He wasn't above begging if necessary.  If only he had flowers and chocolate!  _You win this round, Mist._ "I need to see you. Want to see you."

 

Soren sighed and unlocked it.  “Don’t know why.  I’m not exactly fit for company.”

 

"I don't think I'm ever fit for company," Ike said as he came inside. "I’m sorry I've made a mess of everything."  He looked at Soren, silently questioning if he could pull him into his arms.

 

Soren was leaning against the basin, face still red and playing with the tips of his hair.  “Not your fault,” he said curtly.  “In retrospect your, uh, your um, your, you know, your worries make sense.  So it’s my fault.”

 

Ike gently cupped Soren's cheek. "Not your fault. I… I love you, Soren, and I just want the first time to be perfect. Which of course meant I had to be a blind ass and hurt your feelings. I really am bad at this love thing. But I want to be better, for you. For us."  Ike exhaled. That was more straightforward sentiment than he usually doled out at once, proposal notwithstanding.

 

Soren closed his eyes and leaned into Ike’s hand, although his fingers kept fidgeting with his hair.  “You’re not obligated to want sex, you know.  You’re allowed to say no.  I feel awful that I overreacted. And I’m sorry for not believing you about Skrimir.  I just...” He frowned and shook his head a little.  “Never mind.  We can go out now.  Your food will get cold.”

 

"I don't care about my food, Soren. I care about you." Ike couldn't resist, he ran his thumb along Soren's cheekbone. "And lack of sexual interest isn't my problem. Wanting it too much might be. I just… I value you and want everything to be right and me to be worthy before… that. If you want anything else before then though..." He let his thumb stroke Soren's lower lip.

 

“Ike,” Soren breathed, finally looking at him.  “You are, you are…” he swallowed hard, “… worthy already.”

 

Ike leaned down and kissed him, arms encircling him.  Soren kissed him back and held on tight, but he had more to say.  “And I... I...” He rested his forehead on Ike’s shoulder.  “This is difficult for me.  But I...”

 

Ike placed his chin on the top of Soren's head, holding him close and listening.

 

“In my household, affection is... not freely given.  I was taught from an early age that acceptance and usefulness are connected.”  He scowled more.  “Especially that my appearance was a burden, a curse.  No man wants to be described as small and frail, and people who don’t know my heritage tend to guess I’m somehow demonic.  My mother still gets teary when she looks at me, because I remind her of the life she left behind in Goldoa, Pelleas frequently lords his better looks over me, and let’s not get started on Ashnard.  So as you can imagine, this is all difficult for me.  Hence why I still can’t fathom Skrimir actually wanting me for more than just my dowry.  But you... You keep saying that you want me regardless of my use, regardless of my appearance, that you... love me.  And that... means a lot, more than you could ever know. And this is hard for me to say, because love is a weakness but, but Ike, I - even if you quit this stupid tournament right now, it won’t matter to me because I, I............. l………. lo...... loveyoutoo.”

 

Ike slipped his fingers into his hair to pull his face close for the deep, passionate kiss usually only read about.  After about thirty seconds of doing nothing but basking in the emotions, he whispered, “Love is the greatest force in the universe, and I personally find you ridiculously attractive. Just so you know.”

 

Soren smiled against his lips.  “You are your mother’s son.”

 

They kissed again.  “I’m telling the truth.  Can I prove it?” Ike asked, voice low.  “I was serious about ‘anything else.’”

 

Soren bit his own lower lip shyly, looking up at Ike through thick eyelashes.  “We’ll have to kick Ranulf out.”

 

(While this was occurring, Ranulf’s meal was interrupted by the door to the suite opening.  He almost bolted, but relaxed when he saw it was just Pelleas.  “Hey, join me for dinner?”

 

Pelleas was frowning.  “What are you doing here? Is that why Soren is upset?”  

 

Ranulf was fleetingly thankful he didn’t have a magic twin, because that was kind of creepy.  “No it’s not.  He got into a fight with Ike but they’re making up in the bathroom.”

 

Pelleas hummed thoughtfully before sitting down where Ike had been earlier.  He glanced at the bathroom then decided that the lack of noise was a good sign.  “Are you able to purr?”

 

“Is everyone in Daein stupidly adorable?” Ranulf asked with an amused sigh.)

 

The bathroom door opened and Ike and Soren walked out, holding hands.  “Bye guys,” Ike said before dragging Soren to the bedroom.

 

“Yes,” Ranulf said, answering his own question.

 

(At one point Ike took his shirt off, and Soren heard a saxophone riff and saw sparkles.  All was well.)

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Understanding now that on the face of it “spa day” was a brilliant idea but rather tacky, Soren quickly scrapped that plan in favor of doing something that was probably far worse for everyone involved: taking Skrimir shopping.

 

Although he’d never had a pet dog, this was something like what he imagined it would be like.  Skrimir walked around the open market square with wide eyes, taking in all the stuff that was for sale. He wanted to try everything, touch all the fabrics, and ask questions of all the vendors.  Meanwhile the people of Daein stared at him as if he were the most terrifying thing they’d ever seen - which was definitely not true since they’d all seen Ashnard and Almedha.

 

On the plus side, upon announcing his intentions, Gawain - who as leader of the Four Riders was responsible for the safety of the royal family - had tried to insist that Soren needed a bodyguard if going into town.  Soren had just looked over at Skrimir, who had been successfully bench-pressing a decorative marble statue, and it was then agreed that a bodyguard was probably unnecessary.  Soren had been arguing for years that he was an accomplished mage who did not need chaperoning, but that had never worked before.  

 

Soren watched Skrimir scurry around like an excited child, and considered his own feelings on the matter.  Now that he was down to two competitors, he felt like he could somewhat relax.  Ike stood a 50% chance of winning, and Skrimir wasn’t that bad.  In fact, if he could ignore Skrimir’s head both in appearances and brains (an admittedly difficult thing to do, but this was all hypothetical), he was a fantastic prospect.  Not the one he wanted, granted, but definitely better than it could be.  He just needed to keep telling himself that, and it would be fine. Well, okay, it wouldn't, but lying to yourself was a royal life skill.

 

“Little one!  Look!  A fortune teller!  She can see the future!”  Skrimir was waving to him from quite a few stalls down.  

 

He scowled and started to walk quickly to catch up.  “Don’t you dare spend money on this, there’s no such thing-”

 

“Too late, but I assure you I’m actually blessed with precognition,” the woman replied.  

 

Soren glared at her.  “Really, preying on a laguz?  Their people don’t have magic, he has no idea what it can or can’t do.”

 

The woman ignored him, looking at Skrimir with large, golden eyes.  “You are not to be successful in the short term, but in the long term you will find the affirmation of power you crave,” she said, voice dull and monotone.  

 

Skrimir scowled.  “I dislike half of your prediction.”

 

“It’s just vague enough to always be accurate,” Soren informed him.  “That’s how they get you to believe-”

 

“You are in danger, Prince Soren,” the woman said curtly.  “An old, unseen enemy will move against you, through a path you believe is safe.”  He rolled his eyes, just to show how much he believed her.  She frowned.  “I’m serious.  Your life is in danger.”

 

“Let me guess, you could tell me more details if I gave you more money,” Soren sneered.  “Come on, let’s go.”  He walked away, ignoring her protests.

 

Skrimir followed behind.  “How exciting!  She knew who you were without being told.  Perhaps there is something to her powers after all.”

 

“No.”

 

“Hm, well it seems silly that a mage wouldn’t believe in magic -- oh!”  Skrimir’s nose began twitching and he grabbed Soren’s arm, dragging him further down the stalls before stopping in front of one that really did smell heavenly - they had a pot of oil burning and they were placing various confections wrapped in flour into the oil.  

 

“I have never heard of such a cooking method,” Soren admitted.  

 

“The greatest contributions of the beorc are your kind’s various sweets,” Skrimir gushed.

 

“I can agree with that.”

 

Of course they bought some.  As he ate, Soren felt somewhat sick to his stomach from how rich and unhealthy the treat was, but it was completely worth it.  “This is so good, holy crap.”

 

“I propose we purchase everything here,” Skrimir agreed.

 

_“That is the smartest thing I have ever heard you say.”_

 

Much to the chagrin of the waifish stall owner, the two purchased an obscene amount of fried food, with Soren hoarding it for later and Skrimir eating it as it arrived.  

 

“Look, a tavern!  We should go get drunk!”

 

“No we shouldn’t-”

 

The tavern went silent with the arrival of the lion laguz and the little prince.  He had a sinking feeling of how this was going to go, knowing his father’s indoctrination of a love-hate relationship with laguz was surprisingly well-received by the populace.  He sighed and tried to get comfortable.

 

Sure enough, after about two drinks for Soren and significantly more for Skrimir, a large burly beorc picked up a bottle and threw it at Skrimir’s head.  Skrimir, despite having drunk enough to kill an elephant, caught it.

 

“Get outta here, sub-human!” the man yelled, backed up by his friends.  “An’ you too, half-breed!”

 

Soren stood up, and shortly after the man went crashing into the far wall, knocking over most of his friends.  The winds danced around Soren, ready for his next command, and he looked at Skrimir.  “We either leave now or we kick all of their asses,” he said curtly, “Your call.”

 

Skrimir smirked and shifted into a lion, and a brawl began.

 

* * *

 

 

Ike was grounded.

 

His father had actually used that term.   _No, Isaac, you are not to leave the castle while the princes are out.  Yes I know you’re engaged, but **you** know that it isn’t official until you win.  I know you don’t like them going on a date, but it’s not up to you.  Don’t take that tone with me, young man.  That’s it, you’re grounded!  _

 

So he was stuck in the castle.  Mist had left him while laughing uproariously, so she was no help, but Titania was doing her best to help him keep calm.  “Soren adores you and you said he accepted your proposal, right?” she soothed him even as they trained together.  “You don’t need to worry about him eloping with Skrimir.”

 

“I know,” Ike replied, unable to stop pouting.

 

“Then what are you so worried about?”

 

“I don’t know how to say it.”

 

“I do!”  A very cheerful Ranulf walked up to them, and Ike felt himself bristle instantly.  He did not need mocking on top of the insecurity he already had!  “So here’s the thing.  Up until now, Soren’s been pretty much ignored by people looking for love, except for Ike.”

 

“Oh!” Titania lit up.  “So this whole tournament is Ike’s first exposure to rivals, and Skrimir is the only one interested with some reciprocation, so he’s the first serious competition Ike’s had to deal with.”  She gave Ike a pitying look.  “No wonder you’re not handling this well.  I’m sorry if I seemed uncaring.”

 

“You’re as intelligent as you are beautiful,” Ranulf purred.  

 

“Don’t start!” Ike snapped at him.  

 

Ranulf put up his hands in surrender.  “Calm down, would you? Report from the date-”

 

“They’re not on a date!”

 

“-is that it’s been a platonic sweet-eating excursion.”

 

Ike still scowled.  Soren loved sweets.  Skrimir had hit a bullseye.  

 

Titania sighed at him.  “Really? You think Soren is that fickle?”

 

“No…” He let out a frustrated sigh.  “I get my emotions aren’t logical, okay? Can we get back to sparring?”

 

"I can take a turn with the lady when you need a breather," Ranulf said with a grin.

 

Ike gave him a dirty look.  "Quit hitting on my sister."

 

Titania sighed again, fondly this time.  "Really, Ike?"

 

"Yes really!"  He hefted his sword.  

 

Ranulf frowned at Ike, this one serious. "I mean no harm." His tail twitched.

 

Ike sighed and sheathed his blade.  "I know, I know."  He could make some excuse about how it wasn't fair Ranulf could openly flirt and Ike couldn't, or how his sisters were off limits, but instead he just got to the root of the issue.  "I'm gonna go spy on them."

 

Ranulf shook his head. "Skrimir will smell you. He expects me. You, not so much. And he'll retaliate, trust me."

 

"Retaliate how?"  It might be worth it. 

 

"Spy on you when you're with Soren. Make a move on Soren while you're watching. Leave lizards and dead things in your bed. Challenge you if it makes him pissy."

 

Ike considered all that.  "Crud.  I'll just camp out in Soren's room until he gets back."

 

"Not creepy at all, Ike," said Titania.

 

Ranulf laughed.  "At least have a gift or some reason to be there. Or yes, it’s just creepy."

 

"I love him and our love does not need gifts or reasons," Ike retorted, starting the walk.

 

Titania chuckled as he left.  "He is still a teenager."

 

Ranulf sighed. "Dragons like shiny things!" he called after Ike. "He is adorable and ridiculous all at the same time."

 

"I wish we could be there when Soren gets back."  She smiled at Ranulf.  "That being said, you can keep flirting with me now if you want."

 

"Ah my lady, there you are wrong. I can keep flirting with you so long as _you_ wish it," Ran countered with a smile.

 

She chuckled.  "You are good at this.  By all means, keep going."

 

Meanwhile, Ike made his way to Soren's suite.  He didn't have a key to get in from inside the castle, but it was better than being out in the cold until he had to.  He’d get out into the other courtyard and go to the tree from where the building was closest.

 

This wasn't creepy at all!  He had only good intentions.  He would be there to soothe poor Soren, distraught after he spent all day with Skrimir.  He would need peace and quiet, and Ike would make sure he got it.

 

He jumped when a decorative vase shattered.  He spun and stared in shock.  "It's you!!!"

 

"Dog’s breath! If I'd know you were going to grow to be such a thorn in my side, stealing what was mine, I would have reduced you to ashes when you were a child! But I am correcting my mistake now!! Die!" Petrine set her lance on fire and charged at him.

 

Ike yelped and dodged.  "I did it for love!  It was my dad's idea!  He said you were a weak link!"

 

"I am going to kill you and piss on your remains!" she shrieked, slashing at him again and again.

 

He focused on dodging, totally unsure what to do.  Petrine was mad for a reason.  She was also crazy and wanted him dead.   So he punched her in the face.

 

She dropped her lance and held her face, cursing his name.

 

"Sorry for ruining your life but if you want to get technical it was Ashnard's fault!" he said quickly, sprinting away.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Soren winced his eyes shut at the throbbing pain in his head.  A bar patron had snuck up on him and hit him with a discarded bottle, which had been the only injury Team Sub-Human Half-Breed had taken in the bar fight that had seen the other participants dead or maimed.  “Put me down, I’m fine.”

 

“You fought like a true warrior,” Skrimir cooed.  He was covered in the blood of lots of people who weren’t him, including Soren’s, since he was carrying him back to the castle.  “I bet you’ve never been in a bar fight.”

 

“Of course not, I have class,” he snapped back.

 

“You also have glass in your head.”

 

“This was a terrible idea and I blame you.”

 

“You had fun.  If you had gotten out unscathed this evening would have been successful.”  He hummed.  “I consider it a success regardless, so maybe you do as well.  Perhaps it was successful enough that you will end it in bed with me?”

 

“Wha - what!”

 

“You beorc are weird about mating.  From what I understand, your aristocracy prohibits the procreative act before marriage, but not other activities. That logic is baffling, especially in your position, given you are incapable of bearing children without some sort of magical interference.  What do I care if you are an untouched virgin on our wedding night?  Regardless, I assure you that you would enjoy a multitude of pleasurable experiences with me that would be beyond anything a beorc male could give you.”

 

“I am not drunk or concussed enough to have this conversation with you!”

 

They had only just walked into the castle when a harried-looking Ranulf appeared.  “I would tell you that returning carrying the prince who is covered in blood while also covered in blood is a diplomatic faux pas, but I could tell the chair the same thing and it would listen just as well,” he hissed.

 

Skrimir grinned. “But the chair wouldn’t love you like I do.  I will just take the little one back-”

 

Ranulf cut him off. “No, Skrimir, he goes back to his own room because we are not adding 'taking advantage of a wounded prince’ to your list of accomplishments. Hope you two crazy kids had fun, date night is over, bye now.”  He practically propelled them into their respective bedrooms all while issuing the proper bow to Soren and adhering to all other necessary political niceties.  “Babysitting Skrimir, calming down Ike and playing nursemaid,” he muttered, twitching his ears.

 

Once he was sure Soren in his own room, he sent for a healer and descended upon the lion laguz. “I just hope this doesn't get around. Bar-fighting with Soren. I feel sorry for the rest of the people in that bar, even if they were ignorant racists. I'm sure you decimated them but that was your last public bloodbath.”

 

Skrimir seemed amused by Ranulf’s antics.  “First of all, how did you learn of what happened?  And why are you so frazzled?  Your tail is puffed.”  

 

“If I have to explain it to you, it doesn't count. As far as your itinerary, how many times have you asked me to go drinking with you and 'have some fun?’ It would have only surprised me if you _hadn’t_ gone drinking and returned unscathed. Fleas, Skrimir, are you _trying_ to kill me? I'm a young cat! I have a long life ahead of me supposing you don't worry me into an early grave.” His tail was waving back and forth.

 

Skrimir hugged him.  “I love you too, Ranulf.  None of that blood was mine, so you can stop your fretting.  And very little of it was the tiny beorc’s.  Besides, he had fun, and didn’t say ‘no’ to my proposal, so I am still competing.  All is well.  You may enjoy an evening off, although I recommend avoiding the Drunk Wyvern tavern.”  

 

“Of course he had fun, Soren is somewhat sadistic. That doesn't mean you should actively try to get him engaged in killing people. And an off night? What are you planning on doing, exactly?” He folded his arms skeptically.

 

The lion sighed.  “You assume differences when there are none.  I ate huge quantities of delicious fried sweets, drank a tavern into dryness and brutally mauled some racist pigs.  What do you think I’m going to do next?”  He tsked.  “Sometimes you forget I’m just as feline as you are.”

 

“In your own bed? Alone?” Ranulf asked.  “And I don't forget, I just don't take anything for granted when it comes to your actions.”

 

Skrimir gave him a curious look.  “You fear that the little one will join me.  Interesting.  Why is that?  You know I am here for him.”

 

Being a diplomat, a cat laguz, and Skrimir’s minder, Ranulf responded easily. “I’d still like to prevent any incidents that might cause Daein to declare war on us, such as Soren being found in your bed.”

 

The quick answer was even a truthful one. It just wasn't all of it and for the first time, Ranulf hesitated. He had always been sensitive to emotions and very perceptive, so he wasn't sure just how much another laguz would pick up on. And of course, in this case Ike was his friend so he'd have known anyway.  Should he ask Skrimir if he'd sensed anything when Soren was around Ike? No, definitely not, that would be fueling the flame. Besides, he couldn't add that he didn't want to be put between friendship and duty.  The conversation was over.

 

“Fair enough.  As I was trying to determine with him, the beorc are oddly prudish, from what I can tell.” Skrimir shrugged, then yawned. “No matter, a nap fixes everything. Good night, Ranulf.”  He walked into his quarters, pleased at how the day had gone.

 

Ranulf sighed and tugged on one of the flaps of his band.   He had the night off.  Sleep would be wonderful if he could achieve it.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Soren dismissed the healer with a wave of his hand as he walked into his quarters and closed the door.  He was an adult, he did not need coddling or healing.  “Going drinking in a hostile nation, spending our money on a fortune teller.  My goddess, what a colossal moron.” He walked to the nearest mirror.  There were shards of glass in his blood-caked hair on the back-left of his head.  “Ugh.  How has he survived this long?  He’s lucky he’s cute or I’d set him on fire for this.”

 

Ike poked his head into the bathroom.  “Are you okay? And cute? He’s cute? Why is he cute?”

 

Soren nearly fell over. “Ike what the hell?”

 

Ike was pouty.  “I wanted to go make sure you were okay, but my dad said no. So I waited here for you to come back.”

 

Soren sighed and began to tend to his wound on his own.  “You’re cute too.”

 

“Cuter?” Ike asked as he walked over. “Goddess, you're hurt! Don't tell me it was him!” Ike's voice went cold.

 

He considered making some sort of snarky remark, but Ike was too cute to taunt.  “I got into my very first bar fight today.  It was Team Sub-Human Half-Breed against about thirty angry drunkards.  We won.  My healing kit is in the cabinet behind you.  I’m more than capable of taking care of my wounds.  Could you grab it for me?”

 

Ike visibly bit his tongue as he fetched the kit. “Mind if I tend you?  I'm sure you were terrific in the fight. You always are.”

 

“Go ahead, it’s kind of to the back if my head so it’d be hard for me to get,” Soren admitted, feeling a pang of regret he’d banished the healer.  Oh well, too late now.  

 

“You don't want a healer, right?” Ike asked as he began cleaning the wound gently, pulling the glass from Soren's hair.

 

“Right.”  Soren closed his eyes at the stinging, then resolved himself to ignore it by talking about the day - Skrimir’s acting like a thrilled child, wasting money on the fortune teller, the sheer deliciousness of the fried treats, and the bar fight.  He left out Skrimir’s exceedingly blunt invitation because he knew Ike would overreact, and because even Soren hadn’t found it the least bit sexy, and that was saying something.  “So it went better than I expected it to.  Unfortunately he’s not withdrawing from the competition, so we end as we began.”

 

Ike gently put the healing poultice on the wound and kissed his head next to it. “There's a vulnerary if you want it…”

 

“No thank you.”  He opened his eyes and looked at their reflections in the glass.  He could see it in Ike’s eyes, deep insecurity that Soren recognized because he felt it all the time.  He sighed and closed his eyes again. “Oh Ike.  What a pair we are.”  He leaned back and placed a kiss on Ike’s cheek.  “Would you be offended if I found that girl who made the fried treats and hired her to make food for our wedding?  They were really good.”  He felt his cheeks flush a little at the idea of them getting married, but it wasn’t an embarrassed blush.

 

Ike smiled and held him from behind.  “Not at all. When have I ever turned down food?  And I have to admit, I like the sound of ‘Our Wedding.’”  The look on his face became serious.  “Soren… if I… if I lose, I don't think I could just stand aside. I would challenge him to a duel or run away with you or something.”

 

Soren squeezed the arms wrapped around him.  “I don’t know what I would do,” he admitted.  It was a rare thing indeed, that Soren had no plan.  “I wish I could say with certainty that I would ignore the results and stay with you, but that would end poorly… We would likely go into exile, relations between Gallia and Daein would completely fail… I… I don’t feel a whole lot of nationalistic pride, but even I couldn’t just shrug that off.  But I also couldn’t ask you to move to Gallia as my lover, that wouldn’t be fair to you and I have no idea how that works for the laguz.  Not that it’s uncommon amongst royalty, but…”  He sighed.  “And then if the topic of an heir comes up, as the mage I would be the one to use a gender-changing potion to become pregnant, and I can’t imagine having you there to see that… Oh gods.  I can’t do it.”  He squeezed a little harder.  “I need pressure to stop a panic attack.”

 

Ike held him closer, increasing the power of his hold and nuzzling close. “I will not let it happen. I would die before I would live without you. It's all right. I am here. I will always be here.”

 

Soren just scowled more.  “Don’t say such stupid things.  You’ll find someone with less baggage than me just fine.”  He started digging his fingernails into his own arms.  “I knew this could happen someday.  I shouldn’t be overreacting.  Sorry.”

 

“If you believe that I could ever get over you or move on from you, you are doing yourself and even me a disservice,” Ike said gently. “Great, now I sound like you. But I mean it. I will be with you or… well, die trying to be able to be with you. I…” Ike gently turned him around and kissed him.

 

Soren kissed him back, trying to ignore the weird feelings in his face. At length he couldn't.  “My nose and eyes are burning,” he said between kisses, “And my vision is getting blurry, maybe I need the healer after all.”

 

Ike smiled a little. “You're crying. Don't. Please. Unless they're happy tears.” He kissed his cheeks.

 

“Cr-crying?  I’m not crying!” he protested, reaching up touch damp cheeks.  “Cl-clearly this is fr-from the panic attack!  Or, or food poisoning!” He tried to get his breath under control but it wasn’t working.  “Damn it I am the son of Ashnard, scion of Goldoa and Daein!  I have never cried and I’m not starting now!”  His lower lip wibbled and he wiped his face with his sleeves.  “That girl is fired from our wedding.”

 

“All right, but you do know that if you were crying, there wouldn't be anything to be ashamed of, right? I know you weren't taught this but emotions aren't the enemy or a problem.” Ike cupped Soren's face in his hands. “Besides, you're adorable.”

 

“I am not.”  The not-tears were coming harder now, his chest wracking with not-sobs.  “I’m fine, this is nothing to get upset about, it’s fine, it’s going to be… it’s going to… be… it’s… shit!  I’m so sorry, maybe you should go!”  Soren abruptly left the bathroom, trying to gather his emotions back even though it seemed to be a losing battle.  He threw himself into a lounging chair, as it was the most comfortable piece of furniture in the suite and absolutely perfect for cuddling, should Ike join him.  He returned to digging his nails into his arms to replace the intensity of feelings he had with pain, but it wasn’t working well.

 

Ike followed him, sliding into the lounging chair, putting his arms around him and taking his hands. “Don't hurt yourself.”

 

Soren squeezed.  “I’m so sorry for all of this, it’s not fair, it shouldn’t be like this.”

 

Ike shook his head. "It's not your fault, Soren, and I wouldn't change it for anything."

 

He felt sick to his stomach.  He’d never felt narcissistic enough to complain about his station, but distress threw that out the window.  “Oh Ike.  I’m really sorry.  I really am.  This was all so easy a few months ago.”

 

Ike kissed the back of Soren's head. "Don't apologize. This is the least of what I'd do for you."

 

Soren started sobbing - there really was no denying that one, this was a sob and he was sobbing- even as he wanted to ask _why_.  Why the hell was he worth any of this?  But instead he clung to his love and tried to not completely break down.   _Stop thinking; just feel his arms around you…_  An impossible task on his own, but one he could actually accomplish with Ike there. 

 

But how much longer would he have him?


	10. The Ninth Trial

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Ike proves he’s not good at everything, Soren considers celibacy, and neither is celebrating Father’s Day this year

Okay, so the whole “I’ll be okay if I end up married to Skrimir” thing was not sinking in. Clearly.

 

  
Really it just proved that love is in fact a weakness. Because without “love,” Soren would be just fine marrying Skrimir. Oh sure he’d have reservations (stupid, lion), but those would be balanced out by benefits (distance from his parents, all the hot sex, and that sweet, sweet monarchy). But now Soren would actually be happier in Daien as the spare prince, if it meant he would get to be married to Ike. Hell, if it wouldn’t cause an international firestorm (and leave Pelleas at the mercy of Ashnard’s temper), Soren would be happiest traveling the world with Ike at his side.  


 

In the end though, his opinions were worthless. The trials would determine Soren’s fate, and he needed to get over it quickly.  


 

Soren’s morning musings were cut off by a brisk knock. “Moooopsyyyyyy, I have neeeeeeews!”  


 

Ike sprinted to the balcony, Soren following to appear as if he was the one who shut the door behind him. Almedha burst into his room a moment later. “A very special guest is coming to give the ninth trial!”  


 

“Judging from your excitement, it’s _you_ , isn’t it?” Soren drawled.  


 

His mother rolled her eyes and dragged him to his wardrobe. “I have told you so many times that you would have fewer problems if you would keep your mouth shut. So many of your issues are just because you’re a snarky little shit.” She began dressing him with too much force, tightening the laces and ribbons in his robes too tight for comfort. Then she began working on his hair, this time more gently and tender. “My sweet baby mopsy. I love you so much. I gave up so much for you, did you know that?”  


 

Of course Soren knew it, she told him this quite often. Not that she was looking for an answer.  


 

“And you look so much like my brothers it hurts. My sweet older brother has been quite aloof, but I hope to have a family dinner with him before he leaves. You look like a less-adorable version of my baby brother. Thankfully Pelleas takes after your father’s side of the family.”  


 

Aloof? That was one way of putting it, sure. More accurately _he doesn’t want to risk being permanently turned feral._ But that would admit something was wrong, and that wasn’t his mother’s style. But it did remind Soren that he needed to make a visit to the dungeons.  


 

“But I do love your hair, although I know you only grow it so long out of spite. Oh well. It’s so much fun to play with. My darling baby.”  


 

“Are you going to tell me about the trial or not?” Soren demanded, his eye twitching with irritation for her coddling.   


 

She kissed his ear. “I wonder why your ears aren’t pointed. Not that it matters. But no, it’s going to be a surprise! I just wanted to do your hair today. I do it so much better than the maids.” She hugged him again and flounced out of his room much like she’d flounced in.  


 

“Ugh,” said Soren after she was gone, just because. Then he gathered his things and went on his errand.   
  


* * *

  
  
  
Ike was not creepy and he was not a stalker.

 

  
“You are being a creepy stalker,” Ranulf said jovially as he walked with him. Ike had tracked Soren down to the dungeon/labyrinth/creepy basement of the castle and was preparing to go in after him. “You know you’re not actually his shadow, right? Anyway, why’s he down there?”  


 

“If I had to guess, he’s going to see Uncle Raj.”  


 

“‘Uncle Raj?’ Oh - oh yeah, that dragon was Rajaion. I knew that.” Ranulf looked faintly embarrassed. “The feral drug was such a big reveal that I don’t think we ever connected the dots back to Rajaion. Duh. Skrimir will be thrilled when I tell him who he wrestled. Okay, let’s go.”  


 

“You’re coming too?”  


 

“Sure, why not? Skrimir’s still sleeping, and Titania is training with your dad. My schedule is wide open.”  


 

"Okay, but be stealthy," Ike said before remembering oh yeah, he's a cat.  


 

"Mrow," Ranulf replied, sauntering in. Ike laughed, following.  


 

As they got closer, they could hear talking. "Well I'm not sure if this will help or not. The formula Izuka had was complicated. This should counteract any lingering symptoms."  


 

Ike frowned. Oh, right, Rajaion had been dosed with the feral drug. That whole evening was hazy in his mind, except for the being-burnt-and-barely-able-to-maneuver part. He remembered being irritated his motion was impaired, as it made him less likely to be able to protect Soren sufficiently. It was only his mother who insisted he was close to death. That hadn't been what bothered him. Ike glanced at Ranulf, indicating he wanted to go in. Ranulf nodded back at him.  


 

As Ike and Ranulf rounded the corner, they saw Soren place a bowl on a ledge by a massive black dragon. Ike wasn't sure why, but his breath caught. It was just... beautiful. Something about the contrast. Beauty and the beast. Or maybe Soren's physical delicacy contrasted with the dragon that was Soren on the inside. Something.   


 

The large black dragon gave what must have been a smile and drank the contents almost daintily for a creature that size. After he finished, the dragon began to purr and curled around Soren, letting out what Ike figured was dragon speech.  


 

Ranulf smiled. Ike did too. Soren petted the dragon's head. "Ah, I misinterpreted what you meant by 'control.' Not that I blame you for staying in this form regardless. I'm glad it helped."  


 

Ike wondered if Ranulf spoke dragon, but didn't ask, instead watching the two of them. It was quite sweet. _Some_ family member of Soren's had to be sane.

 

  
"Told you they purred," Ranulf whispered to him. Ike turned red and elbowed him back, mainly because he'd imagined Soren himself purring and it hadn't been 'awwww' he thought at that image.

 

  
Soren chuckled. "Hi Ike, Ranulf."   


 

"Uh, hi," Ike said, stepping out from the shadows. "Soren. Rajaion."  


 

“Nice to see you, Prince Rajaion," said Ranulf, also stepping forward. "We've met before - I'm Ranulf, currently serving as assistant to Prince Skrimir. He thoroughly enjoyed your fight."  


 

"I did not enjoy ours so much," Ike admitted with a smile. "I was too worried about hurting a future in-law." Soren chuckled again at that.

 

  
  
Rajaion laughed (or at least Ike thought he did) and stood, moving a bit away from Soren before he shifted. "Hello Nephew Ike," he said with a trace of a smile. "Long-suffering Ranulf. Or so I assume you are, as Skrimir's minder. I enjoyed my match with him as well.”

 

  
  
Ranulf grinned. "Perceptive."

 

  
  
"You probably already guessed, but I was giving him the antidote to the feral drug," Soren explained. "He didn't need it, but I didn’t know.”

 

  
  
Ike nodded, stepping forward and extending a hand. "It's nice to meet you when you aren’t being paid to set me on fire.”

 

  
  
Rajaion smiled a little and shook his hand. "You gave a good showing."

 

  
  
"Sorry about the Uncle Raj bit. I was trying to be annoying so you'd focus on me."

 

 

“He's good at it," Ranulf said, earning him another elbow in the ribs.  


 

"I let you and Skrimir both win, never fret," Rajaion replied. "I slept through the others. I will not lie, I wasn't terribly interested in thwarting anyone."  


 

"Which is a shame because some of those people needed eating," Soren mused.  


 

"And get a nasty taste in my mouth?"  


 

"I'd get you some mints."  


 

"If I tell Skrimir you let him win, he will try to fight you all the time," Ranulf said, amused. Rajaion smiled. He had a very serene smile, Ike noted, very unlike Soren’s.  


 

"I actually have a question for you, Uncle Rajaion,” Soren admitted, playing with the tips of his hair. "Something you said... my mother and my father are mates for life. Is that... a thing, for dragons?"  


 

"Yes," Rajaion said. "We mate for life, but it doesn't change who we are. And honestly, most laguz are the same. Even a cat," he said with a smile for Ranulf. "It isn’t something metaphysical; simply put, should one decide to become attached, he or she generally remains so. We are very loyal, the laguz, dragons even more so than others, as after we commit to one we generally do not commit to another, even after death." He looked thoughtful. “That may be why our Gift is what it is."  


 

Soren nodded even as Ranulf scoffed. “That all makes sense. But... what Gift?"  


 

"Your mother hasn't told you?" His expression was a bit disapproving.  


 

"All of this is new to me. She has told me very little. I know she is of the dragon tribe and thus I am half... but that's it.”

 

 

"I see. Well, losing one's family would be very hard and poor Medha has been here all alone. Perhaps it was too painful to speak of it… or she did not wish your father to know. Regardless, I refer to the Gift of Life. It is our ability to share some of our considerably long lifespan with another of our choosing."  


 

Soren stared at him as the ramifications of that hit him. It was one of the many things he hated about his cursed blood, even if it was the least of his priorities right now. But he always knew that someday he would need to deal with the fact that he would greatly outlive spirit-charmer Pelleas and typical beorc Ike. But... if what Rajaion said was true...

 

 

Soren was not a hugger, but he fully glomped his uncle. Rajaion raised his eyebrows in surprise but hugged Soren in return.  


 

"Awww," said Ranulf. "Although now I'm jealous. I've known you for years, he's known you for days, and he gets first hug?"  


 

"Shut up, Ranulf."  


 

Ike frowned. He got the implication too and he wouldn't want to take Soren's life... But Soren was happy, so the frown stopped. They’d discuss it later.   
  


 

* * *

  
  
  
Dinner had been served and yet there was a strong sense of anticipation in the air. “Rumor has it someone famous and powerful is present in Nevassa, although that’s the extent of what I’ve heard,” Soren told Ike. “I don’t suppose Ranulf-”  


 

The rest of the question was cut off when the grand doors to the banquet hall burst open and in walked an imposing bald man with the presence of someone twice his size. The entire court went silent. Soren’s mouth dropped open.  


 

The man walked straight to the center of the room as if he ran the place. Even Ashnard, who had the same ability to own a room, did not protest. “I have heard that my grandson is getting married.” His voice was deep - deeper than Skrimir’s even, and it reverberated.  


 

“Holy shit on a stick,” Soren breathed.  


 

Ike blinked. "Is that who I think it is? I thought he never left Goldoa!"  


 

Ashnard stood up. “Welcome to Daein, King Dheginsea of Goldoa!” And he continued to talk in doublespeak that was both somehow intimidating and insulting while being on the surface polite. To his side sat Almedha with tears in her eyes.  


 

“Oh wow, I’ve never seen him in real life,” Pelleas whispered.  


 

“Ranulf,” said Skrimir. “That’s the dragon king. He’s here.”  


 

Ranulf nodded. He knew exactly who it was but what he wanted to know was just what it signified. "I know him. Your uncle has met and talked with him multiple times... What is his play?"  


 

Mist leaned closer to her brother. “He sure is balder than I expected.”  


 

Ike stifled a laugh. "But just as intimidating." He nearly reached for Soren's hand but stopped himself.  


 

The Dragon King glanced at the end of the table where the important people sat, but despite this his voice still carried as if he addressed the entire room. “In Goldoa we have our own trials for suitors to earn the right to marry into the royal family, although they are not as barbaric as Daein’s.” He glanced around until he looked directly at Soren. “There is no doubt in my mind that my blood is in your veins. I was unable to ascertain your father’s worthiness. As such, I shall test your paramours as if you were my child.”

 

  
Ashnard simply chuckled, darkly amused. Almedha got a bright smile on her otherwise tear-stricken face. Pelleas leaned away from Soren.  


 

Ranulf , Elena and Gawain all stood up, each asking the same question even if framed differently: what kind of challenge is this? But they were overshadowed by Skrimir, who stood up and declared with the fire of a thousand suns, “ _I ACCEPT, BUT PLEASE TELL ME THE CHALLENGE IS FIGHTING YOU!_ ”  


 

Ike stood too. "I also accept."

 

  
  
Ranulf, still standing, sighed. Elena turned to her son. “Now hold on a minute young man!”

 

  
  
Dheginsea did not smile, but his eyes expressed something like amusement. “Sorry to disappointment you, nephew of Caineghis, but in Goldoa, our tests are of the mind.”

 

  
Skrimir looked like a drowned kitten. Ike went pale.

 

  
  
“Oh FUCK,” said Soren. Ashnard burst into laughter. Ranulf tried very, very, very hard not to laugh too, and he succeeded. He also kind of wanted to cry. Neither would win!

 

  
Then he considered. Ike was surprisingly smart for someone as dopey as he was. But, well, as for Skrimir, he had just lost and he seemed to realize it too. Ranulf patted his back.

 

 

Elena was pacified. “Oh, then that’s all right.” Gawain grimaced and sat down.

 

  
The king looked at them. “The beorc boy and the cub are the only two?”

 

  
  
Skrimir refound his pride. “We have faced many obstacles. I wrestled your son.”

 

  
  
“You sound impressed with yourself, but his wife scares him more.” Dheginsea’s expression did not show the amusement the words indicated. “Very well. Stand before me.”

 

  
Ranulf felt the need to hiss, "Remember protocol, be polite!" Skrimir snorted at him, which was not reassuring at all.

 

  
  
Soren finally got his brain back in order, and he stood up. “Wait a minute! You can’t just-” He walked around the table, hands shaking but otherwise in control. “You are my biological grandfather but what gives you the right to barge in here like this!”

 

  
Skrimir looked to Ranulf. “You mean like him?” he asked, amused, as he left Ranulf.

 

  
  
Pelleas visibly waffled before getting up and running to his twin. “Soren Soren bad idea, bad idea!”

 

  
“You do not have the right to show up and start dictating my future and judging people I care about!” Soren demanded of the oldest and most powerful being in Tellius.

 

  
  
“Your mother invited me,” Dheginsea replied.

 

 

Soren shot her a murderous look.

 

  
  
“I’m not sorry, I love you my mopsy!” she called back over her tears.

 

  
“I’m ready for this,” said Ike, who was definitely not ready and relying on bravado because “fake it ‘til you make it” was his new motto. A test of the mind? What was that? But he didn’t have a choice. He had to win.

 

  
  
Soren was nearly snarling that he was being ignored, but then Dheginsea spake: “There will be five riddles. Whoever gets the most correct wins. The first: I have two heads but one body; the more I stand still, the faster I run. What am I?”

 

  
  
Oh, it was _that_ kind of test of the mind.

 

  
  
Ike tried his best to think of the answer. It stands still, but moves? “A… uh…”

 

  
  
Skrimir took a somewhat more erratic approach. “Table! Chair! Plate! Fork!”

 

  
  
“Snow globe?”

 

  
  
“Tapestry! Platter!”

 

  
  
Soren walked back over to the table to hit his head on it. Pelleas patted him on the back. Dheginsea remained passively neutral. “I think we will be here for a very long time,” he drawled. “The answer was an hourglass.”

 

  
  
Ike scowled at himself even as Skrimir triumphantly proclaimed, “An hourglass!”

 

  
  
Dheginsea gave him a Look, which was rather like his grandson's Look. “The next riddle is: the more there is, the less that you see. Squint all you want when surrounded by me. What am I?”

 

  
  
“A box! A carriage! A horse! A penguin!”

 

  
  
Ike tapped his head to think about it. What the heck? “A blindfold?”

 

  
“A book! A shirt!”

 

  
  
“Uh…”

 

  
  
“The darkness,” said Dheginsea.

 

  
  
“That’s cheap,” said Ike.

 

  
  
“The darkness!” Skrimir proclaimed.

 

  
  
“Do you want me to set you on fire? At least the boy is actually using his brain.” Dheginsea gave Skrimir a dirty look. Skrimir, wise for once in his life, went quiet. Ike preened with the praise. “So, next: the life I lead is mere hours or less, I serve all my time by being consumed. I am quickest when thin, slowest when fat, and wind is the bane of the gift that I bring.”

 

  
  
“Oh, that one is definitely a penguin!” Skrimir proclaimed.

 

  
  
Ike thought about it. “I’m going to guess that fat penguins are slower than thin ones… but what gift does a penguin bring?”

 

  
  
“Good point. Eggs? Joy?”

 

  
  
“Fucking kill me!” someone (Soren) loudly mourned.

 

  
  
“A candle,” Dheginsea said. “At some point this changed from amusing, to pathetic, to just sad. Next: I float when I am born, lay down when I am alive, and run when I am dead. What am I?”

 

  
  
“Paper! Snow! A ghost!”

 

  
  
“Yes,” said Dheginsea.

 

  
  
Ike felt his heart sink.

 

  
  
“Really?” Skrimir asked before correcting himself. “I mean, of course I got it right…”

 

  
  
“Snow was the correct answer.”

 

  
  
“One more!” Ike demanded.

 

  
  
“I said five riddles, and I am capable of counting that high, although I’m not sure either of you are,” Dheginsea replied, voice incredibly condescending. “The last one: voiceless it cries, wingless flutters; toothless bites, mouthless mutters. What am I?"

 

  
  
“An old person!” said Skrimir.

 

  
  
“I almost want to give a point to you for going from ‘randomly naming objects’ to ‘hearing even a single word I said.’”

 

  
  
“Yes!”

 

  
  
“No.”

 

  
  
Ike was wracking his brain. He needed to get this right. He looked over at Soren for a hint.

 

  
  
Soren was looking right back at him, expression saying if you get this wrong you will never make out with anyone again, let alone me. And he was fingering the end of his long sleeves. Sleeves on his robes… mage robes… magic, no that didn’t work, but Soren used, Soren used -

 

  
  
“Wind!” Ike cried with triumph. In his mind everyone burst into applause for him. In truth no one did, but he didn’t care.

 

  
  
At length, Dheginsea said, “After the response to first riddle, I assumed the score would be tied at zero. I am pleasantly surprised that the score is tied at one. You have both met my exceedingly low expectations of you.”

 

  
  
“Are you sure you’re Soren’s grandpa, and not just an older version of him?” Ike had to ask. “Although now that I say that, I hope if he goes bald it happens after I’m dead because I love his long hair, and I cannot picture him with a mustache.”

 

  
  
Dheginsea just stared at him.

 

  
  
“No offense, Sir.”

 

  
  
The stare didn’t stop.

 

  
  
“I mean, I have never seen a shinier head. And at least you don’t have mutton-chops!”

 

  
  
Ranulf snuck up to him and placed both hands on Ike’s shoulders. “You might want to go hide for like a week, Ike.”

 

  
  
“Yeah,” Ike agreed, and he fled.  


 

* * *

  
  
  
  
“Hey Soren,” Pelleas said as the brothers faced each other with tomes in hand.  “Hey Soren, hey Soren!”

 

  
  
Soren sighed. “What, Pelleas?”

 

  
  
“Let’s do some more riddles. I’m long, brown and sticky. What am I?”

 

  
  
“Ugh, really?”

 

  
  
“A stick!”

 

  
  
“You’re an arse is what you are.”

 

  
  
“What does a nosy pepper do?”

 

  
  
“That’s a joke, not a riddle.”

 

  
  
“Gets jalapeño business!”

 

  
  
“You’re not funny or clever.”

 

  
  
“Two men walk into a bar…”

 

  
  
“I’m going to marry an idiot and you are going to die alone, so really who’s the worse off?” Soren snapped back.

 

  
  
Pelleas pouted. “The third one ducks,” he muttered. “Wow, way to kill the mood.”

 

  
  
Soren sighed, because his brother defeated Ike for the title of “the saddest of all the sad puppies” when he got into a mood. “Sorry.”

 

  
  
“I forgive you. So, I was thinking today let’s pull out the big spells. Rexcalibur versus Balberith! I haven’t had a chance to try it out yet. I still can’t believe Izuka was evil.”

 

  
  
Soren blinked in surprise. “Seriously? Not even a little bit of hindsight on that one? I knew he was evil while he was here and before he did anything actually wrong…”

 

  
  
“Whatever. Magic twin powers time!” Pelleas reached into his satchel. “Let’s do this!”

 

  
  
Soren nodded and swapped out his standard Elwind for Rexcalibur. “All right then.”

 

  
Pelleas was looking over Soren’s shoulder.  “Oh, hello Prince Skrimir!”

 

  
  
Soren twitched. Ike was hiding in his bedroom, but here was Skrimir, unashamed of his abysmal performance this afternoon. He gave the lion a glare over his shoulder. “Really, you’re actually showing your face? You either have too much pride, or not enough of it.” Oh, that gave him an idea! But there wasn’t time to think of that now. Mental note.

 

  
  
Skrimir waved that away with a hand. “I don’t need to think, that’s Ranulf’s job.”

 

  
“No it’s not,” Ranulf protested. He was following his boss, with ears and tail low as if _he_ were ashamed. “It actually isn’t, I have a framed copy of the job description and ‘do Skrimir’s thinking for him’ is not in it.”

 

  
  
“‘Do Skrimir’s laundry for him’ is in it and that’s roughly the same thing.”

 

  
  
“That isn’t in there either!”

 

  
  
Soren wasn’t sure what the tipping point had been. But now, as he looked at Skrimir, he felt none of the sexual tension he’d been feeling. Zip, nada, zilch. It was as if Skrimir’s stupidity had utterly curb-stomped any other quality he might have. Soren hated stupidity. More specifically, he hated complacent stupidity. Try to improve your brain, at the very least!

 

  
  
He considered knocking him down a peg or two by telling him he was engaged to Ike already, but that would be stupid and, as noted above, Soren hated stupidity. So, best to end this social encounter before it truly began. “Actually, I just remembered that I’m due to meet with my father.”

 

  
  
Ranulf looked worried. Skrimir’s brow furrowed as if he knew he should be; they’d essentially gaslit the poor man about Soren’s prior injuries. However, before either could protest, Soren fled.

 

  
  
“Okay but this means I won!” Pelleas called after him.

 

 

* * *

  
  
  
  
Gawain sat on Ike’s bed. “Son, we need to have a chat.”

 

  
  
Ike peered at him from his pillow fort of shame. “About what? That I spend too much time training instead of book stuff? That’s what Soren’s for. I get things on shelves for him, he solves riddles and reads a lot.”

 

  
  
“When you were little you would just run around the castle like an adorable energy-ridden maniac. I knew you’d never have the focus to be a scholar, and I still don’t care.” Gawain cleared his throat. “But, I can’t help but notice you’re around the Gallian Ambassador a lot. You’re not being unfaithful to Soren, are you?”

 

  
“What?! No!”

 

  
  
“Ah… I see. I don’t judge, the cool thing nowadays are, uh, open relationships, I get it… When you figured out Soren was a boy and you still wanted to marry him, I had to get used to the idea you wouldn’t be traditional… but I’ll admit I didn’t see this coming. Just uh, give me a heads-up if you think my future grandchild will have cat ears, okay? Just so I don’t look shocked.”

 

  
  
“Dad! Shut up!”

 

  
  
Elena was laughing in the other room.

 

  
  
“You kids are making it work somehow, so uh, good for you. I don’t entirely approve, but I can try.”

 

  
“Dad!” Ike yelled desperately, “We are not in a threeway!”  


 

Gawain was not looking at him, his face red. “It’s just, don’t forget about sex diseases, although I don’t know if laguz and beorc have the same ones… I mean I know Soren won’t sleep with anyone else, but Ranulf is a cat, and they have, uh… looser rules for that sort of thing. I mean when a king who can turn into a lion and benchpress a dragon propositions you, you never forget it.”

 

  
  
“ _I didn’t need to know that! Shut up!”_  
  
“Not that I did anything, since I was married to your mother at the time. Uh… anyway… So I guess my point is, make sure to, you know, use protection and see a doctor regularly… and talk to Ranulf, make sure he’s on the same page and find out what kind of sexual diseases he might give you… Communication is key. I’m rooting for you three.”

 

  
  
Ike finally got up to grab his father by the tunic. “Dad! I am not in a relationship with Ranulf! Soren is not in a relationship with Ranulf! And neither of us are having sex with Ranulf! He is my friend, geez! I can still have those, right?!”

 

  
“Maybe you don’t know what sex is,” Gawain mused, “I don’t think I ever taught you that-”

 

  
Elena was laughing harder as she walked in, grabbed her socially awkward husband, and dragged him out.

 

  
  
Ike made sure to lock the door before he buried himself again, more horrified than ashamed now.  
  


 

* * *

 

 

  
  
  
Ashnard did not hold a grudge after he got revenge, and he was usually honest. Proof that no one was completely without merit. Soren had to remind himself of this over and over again as they sat together for another chess game.

 

  
  
They were almost done when a conversation began. “Did you like your mother’s surprise?” Ashnard asked as he moved.

 

  
  
“I can’t imagine what she did to get the old man to leave Goldoa, so it was definitely a surprise,” Soren admitted. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but that’s one of his defining traits. Old, powerful, stationary.”

 

  
  
Ashnard chuckled. “It’s a shame, considering how magnificent it would be to mount and ride him.”

 

  
“You do that to his daughter enough,” Soren had to say. His father just stared at him, so he awkwardly shrugged and moved his own piece. “What? You left yourself wide open for that one.”

 

  
  
The older man snorted, then grinned. “You should respect your parents.”

 

  
“In that you have set a brilliant example,” Soren replied, because Ashnard had murdered all of Soren’s paternal aunts, uncles, and grandparents. He’d made a decent effort at the maternal ones too, for that matter.

 

  
  
“I was the youngest of over twenty children. I did everyone, my parents included, a favor by killing them all.”

 

  
  
“Right, of course. That’s your defining trait: altruism." Almedha was right about something: Soren really was a snarky little shit. Oh well. "Oh, I had a flight of fancy that should amuse you.” Soren made his move, both on the board and in the tournament. “Neither Ike nor Skrimir expressed any sort of chagrin over their riddle-solving misadventures this afternoon. Wouldn’t it be amusing if the tenth trial were designed to humiliate them? Something ridiculous. They’d both chafe, or quit in a tizzy.”

 

  
  
Sorry, Ike.

 

  
  
Ashnard actually laughed as he made his own move. “I like it! I am now picturing Skrimir in lederhosen and I have rarely been more amused. You truly are my son.”

 

  
  
Soren snorted. “Amused and horrified.” He made his move. “Checkmate.”

 

* * *

  
  
  
  
Ike still scaled the tree and went to visit Soren that night, never too ashamed for snuggles. They embraced and Soren leaned in to him. "Hi. What a day."

 

  
  
"You can say that again," Ike said, pulling him close and onto the bed.

 

  
  
"I talked to my father. I think I planted an idea in his head for the next trial. I could be wrong. But it can't be worse than this one was.” He chortled a little.

 

  
"What kind of idea?" Ike did not want to talk about the trial, thanks.

 

  
  
"Well Skrimir felt no shame for his dinner-time guessing game, so I suggested the tenth trial being the contestants humiliating themselves. Sorry."

 

  
  
Ike sighed. "I usually feel that way when it comes to manners and polite society. Might as well win something for it.”

 

  
  
"I bet Skrimir will refuse."

 

  
  
Ike paused then smiled. "He might!"

 

  
  
"And if he doesn't, then we get to laugh at him." Soren nuzzled into his neck. "I'm just... happy today."

 

  
  
"You like Rajaion... and what he said," Ike said softly.

 

  
  
"And you didn't get eliminated, and I beat my father in chess. Today was great."

 

  
"You beat Ashnard in chess? Did he hurt you?"

 

  
Soren got a big, genuine grin. "No. He was proud."

 

  
  
"Hmm. Well I'm proud of you, too."

 

  
  
Soren chuckled and kissed his neck. "Thank you. That was the least important part of my day, but I'm still smug."

 

  
  
Ike held him close and kissed his forehead. "Soren, about the life thing..."

 

  
  
"Hmm? What about it?"

 

  
  
"It isn't right. I mean I couldn't...it would be like partly killing you...." Ike scowled because this was important and he didn’t have the words.

 

  
Soren sat up so they could look at each other in the eye. "I'm the only Branded half-dragon in existence. I have no idea how long I will live. My first plan was to kill myself when you're all gone. Wouldn't sharing my life with you make more sense?"

 

  
Ike frowned more. "I definitely don't want you to kill yourself. But... Can you understand why it makes me uncomfortable?"

 

  
  
"I can, but those are my two choices.”

 

  
  
Ike kissed him, rubbing his back. "I love you so much. I just, it feels like I would be hurting you. But I don't want you alone and I definitely do not want you killing yourself."

 

  
  
"Then I think we agree this is the way to go. Not that I have a clue how to do it, but... now I have hope."

 

  
  
Ike held him closer and kissed his hair. “Then so do I.”


	11. The Tenth Trial

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Ike will never be a rock star, and Soren is done with all of this nonsense

Soren woke up to the sound of voices in the adjacent room.  He rolled his eyes almost instantly, thankful that Ike had left in the middle of the night but irritated that his mother was continuing her time-honored tradition of ignoring the privacy of others.  But there were more voices than just hers, so Soren dragged himself out of bed and threw on a lounge robe.

 

Almedha, Dheginsea, Rajaion and Pelleas were sitting in Soren’s suite, with breakfast being brought by servants.  Pelleas looked as if he had been dragged out of bed (unbeknownst to Soren, he absolutely had been), but the dragons looked immaculate.  “Good morning, Mopsy,” his mother cooed.

 

“I thought I took your key to my suite.”

 

“Silly bean, you can never stop a mother’s love!”

 

Dheginsea chuckled, a low rumbling noise.  “Ashera is clearly the Goddess of Justice. You were just as awful when you were his age, Medha.”

 

“Thanks,” Mother and Son said together with almost identical sarcastic tones.  

 

Rajaion giggled - _actually giggled_ , which was bizarre coming from someone who had set a man on fire and wrestled a lion mere days ago.  “And from what I can tell, Pelleas is the Kurthnaga.”

 

“Is that good or bad?” Pelleas asked sleepily.

 

“It… it just _is.”_

 

Dheginsea drank his tea.  “Daein is passable. Why anyone would choose to live here in the frigid cold is lunacy, but that’s typical for the beorc.”  Both Almedha and Rajaion sighed as he continued, “The whole race is defined by persistence in the face of never-ending challenges.”

 

“If forced to choose between eternal winter or _you_ , I choose the snow as my never-ending challenge,” Almedha drawled, and even Soren had to grudgingly admit that he had too much in common with his mother.  He really did need to learn to keep his mouth shut.

 

But Pelleas was a peacekeeper, and he asked aloud, “Hey, speaking of beorc, you knew Altina, didn’t you?  What was she like?”

 

It started a fascinating conversation about the Heroes of the Goddess.  Shockingly, Dheginsea seemed almost eager to answer his grandsons’ questions.  A far cry from the cold, unfeeling man of his mother’s stories. (Then again, grandparents were supposed to dote on grandchildren, or so Soren had read.)

 

 

* * *

 

 

“ _When competitors won't indulge in shame, only the humble can win this game._ Huh?" Mist rubbed her sleepy eyes as the Greils ate their typical morning meal.  “Is that another stupid riddle? I thought we were done with those.”

 

Ike groaned.  "I think Soren is going to make us humiliate ourselves. He did warn me.”  

 

Mist made a face.  "Your relationship is so one-sided.”

 

“That’s been true for a very long time, but Ike likes it that way,” Elena mused.  Ike glared at them, and his mother amended, “Darling, when you were five years old, your father and I intended on leaving Daein.  You put up the biggest fit I have ever seen, before or since. ‘He needs me, Mama! He needs me and I won’t go, you can’t make me!’  It broke my heart.” Ike flushed, not really able to remember that. “Ike needs Soren to need him. And that’s okay, because Soren does need him.”

 

“You’re saying I need him to be vulnerable?  Or my ego is so big that I have to be needed?”  Ike frowned more.

 

Elena shook her head.  “Not exactly. More like, you thrive off helping others.”

 

Ike huffed and ate some eggs.  “I think I just always loved him and saw him in a way no one else did.  And he let me in and he wouldn’t let anyone else in.”

 

His mother beamed even as his father drank his coffee and asked, “What are you going to do?  Put on a jester outfit and try juggling? Read poetry?"

 

Ike frowned more.  "I don't know. I wonder if this is specific as it gets.  Does the letter say anything else, Mist?”

 

Mist read it again.  "Nope. On the plus side, I can’t picture Skrimir doing anything at all.  So if you do something, you’ll win by default!"

 

"I like that idea.”  Ike did smile a little.  “But I can't do poetry. Or tell jokes.  What can I do? What do lovers do? I might as well go all out." He rubbed his chin in thought.

 

His three family members all winced.  "They do romantic ballads,” Mist admitted, “but that sounds horrifying coming from you...  I remember when Lillia came to visit Mom..."

 

Elena chuckled.  “You did not get any sort of heron song abilities, that is true.”

 

“But that means… that means that’s what I _should_ do.”  Think of Soren.  Think of Soren.

 

Gawain nodded solemnly.  "Oh sweet Goddess, this is going to be horrible.  I love it.”

 

Ike looked at his family with steely determination.  “Let’s find me a lute.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Ranulf read the card to Skrimir, filled with amusement.  "So will you transform into lion and do tricks?"

 

Skrimir scoffed.  "How dare they seek to demean the future King of Gallia.  Racist pigs. No one is worth such a thing."

 

"They're doing the same thing to Ike, your competition. I just figured being a feline would be more palatable to you.  Do it in your normal shape if you like. Dye your mane temporarily purple. Yodel." He couldn't help but chuckle. "Do both."

 

Skrimir was packing his bags.  "No."

 

Honestly, Ranulf was relieved at this reaction.  He figured that had been Soren’s intention from the beginning; this particular trial had him written all over it.  Still, it would be incredibly suspicious were he to agree too fast. "Ah, I forget you are a cub, not a kitten. Lions have an even harder time giving up pride than we do.  But you must not want Soren that much… or you're a bit of a romantic."

 

Skrimir scowled more, which was impressive considering the intense glare he already had.  "What do you mean?"

 

Well, no sense in being dishonest now!  "You can't tell me you don't know Soren is in love with Ike."  Skrimir paused, and Ranulf quickly realized that nope, Skrimir had _not_ known Soren was in love with Ike.   _Crap._

 

"Hah.  I see. Then it's likely that I am being played.  Well, he wins. It's a shame I never got to bed him, judging from how eagerly he kissed me."

 

"You would have to want him enough to hurt your pride, which you clearly don’t,” Ranulf replied with a shrug, trying to minimize it all.  After all, losing would be an affront to Skrimir’s pride too. “I’d like to think you're being noble. It would make me feel like I raised you right."

 

"You didn't raise me at all.”

 

"Pretty much did, cub.” Who cared if Skrimir was technically older? Ranulf won due to maturity.

 

Skrimir smirked a little, shaking his head.  "Well, invite them to Gallia for their honeymoon.  Perhaps I can seduce the little one there, because an ass as fine as his should not be limited to just one mate.  Meanwhile you and the other can satisfy your own unresolved sexual tension."

 

Ranulf was feeling pretty good about this conversation until that little comment at the end.  “Wait what? Sexual tension with who?"

 

"The one with the blue hair.  Ike, I think. Not Soren, because I bet he's a size queen in the making.  No offense. And you can invite the redhead you've been flirting with too, she's gorgeous.  Although I don't usually go for redheads.”

 

"Ike?" Ranulf started laughing uproariously. "He's like my little brother!"

 

“Uh huh.”

 

"But Titania, she is something special.”  At the mention of her, he realized that he really needed to up his flirtation, if they were actually going to be leaving soon.

 

Skrimir eyed him with a raised eyebrow and a small smile.  "Ah. Then good came of this venture. Although now that I know, I could go complain to Ashnard about this trial..."  His tail thoughtfully swayed. "If I win, I could try being benevolent and letting him take his lover to Gallia."

 

"Do you really want to be petulant?  Of course, I'm a romantic at heart. You know what they say… scratch a cynic and underneath you'll find a romantic."

 

His prince leered at him.  “Well I wouldn’t call myself a cynic, but it is true you’re often underneath me!”

 

Ranulf threw a piece of luggage at him.  Skrimir just laughed.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Soren felt magic course through him, almost comforting in its coolness.  The snow in the courtyard solidified as the winds picked up. It allowed him to ignore all the people outside - the Goldoans and the Gallians were enjoying the slightly less-frigid-than-average temperatures and as a result the brothers had an audience for magic sparring.  No pressure or anything.

 

Pelleas’ spell conjured up dark power around him.  Soren made the split-second decision to dodge because, if he didn’t, the spell would actually hit him.  

 

In retrospect, he should have just tanked it.  Magical energies went flying, and without Soren there to get hit, a huge portion of the castle wall was destroyed and fell.  

 

There was yelling, but Soren had no time to get out of the way.  He covered his head with his hands to protect himself, which probably wouldn’t help much, but he had to do _something_.  It had been a long time since they’d caused such property damage.  

 

When the dust faded, Soren had been hit on the shoulder with a stray piece of stone, but that was all the damage he took.  Instead, he was pressed against the wall and being sheltered by an absolutely massive lion.

 

Soren gasped, he couldn’t help it, even as the mighty beast reverted back to his beorc-shaped self.  “You are only slightly harmed?”

 

Soren nodded.  As the laguz prince stood over him, he could see the debris from the castle resting on Skrimir’s back.  “Doesn’t that hurt?”

 

“Yes, but not as much as you would assume.”  He chuckled. “So, I heard rumors that you and the beorc boy are already in a relationship.”

 

Oh, this wasn’t good, for a number of reasons.  “Yes,” he admitted, feeling oddly guilty. “Ike and I have been together for awhile now, but we couldn’t be official due to our difference in status.  But the tournament proved to be an equalizer.”

 

“I see.”  Skrimir chuckled again.  “So while some were manipulating things for my benefit, you were doing the same for his.  Well, I will concede defeat, with conditions.”

 

“Go on…”   _Please don’t be sex, please don’t be sex…_

 

“First, do not tell anyone.  I want to see the boy humiliate himself.”

 

Soren snorted in amusement, because frankly, he wanted to see it too.  “Agreed.”

 

“Second, when he dies, come to Gallia.  You’ve caught my interest.”

 

“Sure, why not.”  Soren would be dead too, but sure, he’d try to make the trip.

 

“And third, I want a proper kiss.  I want you to see what you’re giving up.”  He smirked.

 

Soren rolled his eyes, at least slightly relieved that it was a kiss and not something more.  “Did you miss the part when I said I was in a relationship with Ike?”

 

“No I did not, but I also did not miss the part where our kissing is amazing.  You know you felt it too.”

 

Well, on the one hand, Skrimir supporting the weight of part of a castle in his defense really was indulging Soren’s strength fetish pretty hard.  On the other hand, Ike deserved better. So Soren stood up and planted the world’s least-sexiest smooch on Skrimir’s lips. “There.”

 

Skrimir chortled and stole another kiss, making Soren tingle but also back up further against the wall.  “You win, little one,” he said with a smirk, before he turned back into a lion in order to knock the stone off.  Then, to Soren’s shock, the beast took Soren’s entire torso into his mouth - making Soren’s life flash before his eyes - before he carried him gently out of the rubble, deposited him safely on the ground, and then rubbed him with his whiskers.  

 

Soren was all but tackled by his hysterical brother and mother, Pelleas wailing apologies as his mother just sobbed like she’d watched Soren be eviscerated before her eyes, because Almedha was nothing if not histrionic.  

 

Despite having had a portion of the castle fall on him, Soren actually felt better than he had in days.  He had closure with Skrimir, and all that stood between him and Ike was one more, silly and nonviolent trial.  

 

Yes, Soren had indeed won.

 

(Even if Pelleas had actually had decent aim for once.)

 

* * *

 

 

Because Ike couldn’t win anything, the tenth trial was taking place in the arena and in front of an audience.  In a way that was both more embarrassing and yet less so than just performing in front of the judges - namely, Soren and Ashnard.  

 

“I have a choice,” Ike said aloud to the remaining members of Greil’s Gals.  “I can hate every second of this, or I can have some fun with how awful this is going to be.”

 

“Do you know how to play a lute?” Mist had to ask.

 

“Does air lute count?” Ike asked.

 

“No. No it absolutely does not,” Titania replied.

 

“Then no, not even a little.”

 

“This is going to be amazing and I can’t wait to watch you.”  His mother giggled.

 

Titania put her hand on his shoulder.  “Go rock out, Ike.”

 

He gave her a solemn nod and walked into the arena, where the spectators were actually cheering for him.  Ha, for now!

 

“Hi,” he said, and everyone slowly went quiet to hear him address the judges.  “So I wrote a ballad to show my love.” Ike got out his lute, strumming a few times to tune the instrument.  

 

“Oh no,” said Ashnard.  

 

He began to sing:

 

_“You're here, there's nothing I fear_

_And I know that my heart will go on_

_We'll stay forever this way_

_You are safe in my heart and my heart will go on and on!_

_Did you know, that when it snows,_

_My eyes become large and the light that you shine can be seen?_

_Baby, I compare you to a kiss from a rose on the grey_

_Ooh, the more I get of you, the stranger it feels, yeah!_

_We’ve known each other for so long_

_Your heart’s been aching but, you’re too shy to say it_

_Never gonna give you up_

_Never gonna let you down_

_Never gonna run around and desert you;_

_Never gonna make you cry,_

_Never gonna say goodbye_

_Never gonna tell a lie_

_And hurt you!_

_Don't tell me it's not worth trying for_

_You can't tell me it’s not worth dying for_

_You know it's true, everything I do, I do it for you!_

_I believe in a thiiiing called loooooove!_

_Wooooooooooooooah!  Woohoo!”_

 

Silence fell after Ike finished haphazardly strumming his lute.  No one could say he had too much pride, dammit!

 

Ashnard looked to Skrimir, who simply shook his head slowly.

 

“So I guess that means… Ike is the winner of the tournament,” the King said as if he could not believe it.

 

“Great,” said Soren, “I want a divorce.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

A party was held to celebrate the conclusion of the trial.  Soren wasn't a huge fan of feasts, even those held in his honor (of which there were very few).  But this feast was different - it was a celebration of Ike's victory and their official engagement.  It felt like a genuine cause for a party. So he smiled as he drank wine and watched Ike pile his plate with food.   _You eat all the food you want, Ike.  You deserve it._  

 

Ike was beaming at Soren when he wasn't eating.  "I love you," he said.

 

Soren blushed.  He really wasn't used to public displays of affection, for obvious reasons.  “You don’t have to-”

 

"Kiss him!" Ranulf crooned, raising his own drink.  Titania laughed.

 

Ike beamed at him more.  Soren blushed harder, glaring at Ranulf.  The cat just flicked his tail at him, amused.

 

His betrothed walked up to him, placing his hand on the small of Soren’s back.  "We’ve never been allowed before," Ike said softly.

 

"I - I know that..."

 

Pelleas and Ranulf began a chant.  "Kiss him! Kiss him! Kiss him!"

 

"I want everyone to know how much I love you, but I don't want to make you uncomfortable," he explained.

 

Soren blushed more but nodded his consent.  Ike gently pulled Soren in and kissed him sweetly.

 

"Boo," said Ranulf and Pelleas, making Soren wryly smile against Ike’s lips.

 

Ike looked at Soren.  "You okay?" Soren nodded, amused but still blushing.  Ike grinned and kissed him again, this time with passion instead of sweetness, deepening the kiss and dipping him backwards.

 

The peanut gallery cheered and there was a smattering of applause around the feasthall.  Soren kissed him back, blushing even harder now even as he thoroughly enjoyed himself.

 

"More tongue!" Ranulf called out.

 

Ike ignored them, grinning larger before letting him back up.  Soren took a moment to recover, feeling all the sparks, before he decided to just jump into Ike's arms to keep kissing him.

 

Meanwhile, Elena gave Ranulf and Pelleas Looks.  "Behave.” Pelleas nodded sheepishly as Ranulf gave her a very innocent smile.  She shook her head at him. "Not going to work, young man.”

 

“Sorry, Mom,” Ranulf replied, calling her that and actually meaning it.

 

The lovebirds only stopped making out when Gawain tapped Soren on the shoulder.  "Sorry to interrupt your public display, but I need to speak to my son."

 

Soren got off Ike quickly, fixing his fancy robes.  "Er, right, sorry."

 

Ike was confused. "Uh, Dad?  I was kinda busy…”

 

"Come with me," the elder Greil said nervously.

 

"Now?"

 

"Yes now, Ike." Soren went off to go yell at his brother, so Ike went with his dad.  

 

In the hallway, Gawain put his hands on Ike’s shoulders. “Son, are you listening?”

 

“Yeah?”  Ike was worried.

 

It turned out that was the correct emotion.  “All right. So. I’m sure you’ve noticed your body going through changes.  Those are completely normal.”

 

“No!”

 

“You haven’t?  Well, you’ve gotten a lot taller, and more muscular.  Sometimes your penis gets hard. That’s normal too. It’s because a penis is called a _sex organ_.”

 

“Dad, stop!”

 

“You use it to get a girl pregnant.  Now, that won’t happen here because both you and Soren are boys, so you don’t have to worry about it.  Which is great, because if you _did_ get a girl pregnant before you turn 20, I would probably have to kill you.”

 

“Please stop! Pleeeaaase stop!”

 

"So I did some research for you, on how that... all works.    It turns out, you'll need to buy a lot of lubricants and things for cleaning.  Because... well... er..." Finally Gawain’s palpable shame rendered him struggling for words.

 

"Dad stop it!  Please!" Ike was backing away.

 

His father wasn't looking at him.  "Or you could just, you know, use your hands or mouth... that might be easier, given, you know... logistics of it all.  Anyway, I'm rooting for you. Did you ever ask Ranulf about sex diseases?"

 

"Never talk to me again!" Ike fled.

 

"You'll be sorry if you get the clap!" Gawain called after him.

 

(Gawain had no idea what the clap was.  But he was pretty sure it was a sex disease.)

 

As for Ike, he hid in the garderobe, and he was never coming out.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Soren heard the door to the balcony open, and he smiled.  “I’m surprised you had the energy to climb up the tree, after spending all afternoon hiding in-”


	12. The Unofficial Eleventh Trial

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein talking to Ike about sex diseases somehow led to Soren getting kidnapped

Soren woke up freezing cold, with an aching head, and with his hands bound on his lap.  He looked around, although his vision was blurry. He could tell he was in a dark place that smells earthy, so likely a cave, which was odd.  He tried to remember how he got here, but couldn’t quite place it.

 

He had been… oh, that’s right, there was a celebration for Ike winning the tournament.  Skrimir had bowed out. So there had been a party. Then he’d retired for the evening. And… someone had come in through his balcony door.  It had been unlocked as always, for Ike. He’d gotten up to greet Ike but hadn’t turned around when something hit him. That’s right.

 

Soren closed his eyes and groaned.  A kidnapping. It was a common enough threat against a member of any royal family, but it was very rarely successful.  That begged the question of who and why, and where they were going.

 

There was a blizzard raging  outside the cave entrance. Soren had been placed close enough that he could feel the cold, but the snow stopped inches from his feet.

 

A figure bundled in furs came in, carrying a couple of sticks.  Really? He wasn’t a woodsman by any stretch of the imagination but even he knew wet, frozen sticks are inadequate to make a fire unless magic was involved.  Whoever this was failed at outdoor survival. “Bah! This weather is as horrid as the entire country!” the man spat as he shook off the snow.

 

Lekain.  Soren had legitimately forgotten about him after he was removed from the competition.

 

The man had clearly not forgotten him, as he gazed down at him with a haughty expression.  “Good morning, your highness,” he sneered, and as always Soren felt the chills up his spine.  “We are approaching the border to Begnion, where my entourage is waiting to take us to Sienne.  Our public marriage will solidify an alliance between my duchy and your very violent father, but after that, what happens to you is ultimately in your control.  Your options range from becoming my useless, drug-addicted catamite, to the tactician commander of my armies as I conquer the country and become Emperor.” Soren didn’t like either of those plans.  “I do so hope you cooperate, as I would have hated for this vacation to be a complete waste. Slaves are easier to come by than good tacticians.” He began piling his pathetic little sticks together, and a light shone from his hands, igniting the tiniest stem of one before it sadly burnt out.  “Curses! Very well, we shall have to share body heat.” Lekain leered at him.

 

Soren promptly used his feet to push away from him.  It put him closer to the mouth of the cave, but it was worth it.

 

Lekain looked coldly furious.  “Hmph. You may think you’re willing to freeze to death now, but I can wait for you to come to me.  Perhaps if you service me appropriately, I may forgive you and let you live. And if not, I will still get pleasure from watching your spoiled arse slowly die overnight.”

 

With his hands bound Soren could not give him the finger, so instead he rolled his eyes as dramatically as possible.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

When it became apparent that Soren was missing, Ike kind of lost his mind.  Sadly the one who got the brunt of it was poor beleaguered Bryce, who was also the princes’ bodyguard.  “What the hell were you doing when he was busy being kidnapped?”

 

“No one came in his room the appropriate way,” the stately man said with a hint of accusation in his voice.  “With no sign of forced entry, it becomes clear that the balcony door was unlocked.”

 

Ike took a step back as if struck.  That was his balcony door, damn it! No one else was allowed to go in there but him!

 

“Maybe he wasn’t kidnapped, maybe he just doesn’t like you,” the Black Knight commented dryly.

 

Ike was about to punch that helmeted head when his father caught his fist.  “Don’t be a dick,” he said to the Black Knight sternly. “And Ike, calm down.  We will find him.”

 

“But how?” Ike demanded, feeling like a child again.  “We have no leads, no one with a motive, and it’s not like we can see the past!”

 

Gawain put his hands on his son’s shoulders.  “Are the Gallians still in the city?”

 

Ike got the idea, and ran to find Ranulf.

 

“Try to avoid Soren’s mom!” Gawain called after him.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“ ** _WHERE IS MY BABY?_** ” Soren’s mom demanded with the fire of five thousand suns after Ike failed to avoid her.

 

“I’m right here,” Pelleas replied, looking worried at her intense scream.

 

She let go of Ike’s ear to run and wrap her arms around Pelleas in a crushing hug.  “Not you! Your brother has been foully kidnapped!”

 

Pelleas looked at Ike, panicked.  “Seriously?”

 

“Yes seriously!  I was looking for Ranulf when I ran into your mom.”  And there his quest had stalled because she was scary and he was not afraid to admit it.

 

Ranulf’s head poked out of the laguz delegation’s quarters, the door mostly closed.  “I heard my name.”

 

“You!  Save my mopsy!” Almedha shrilly demanded, pointing at him.

 

“Ranulf!” Ike ran up to him.  “Soren’s been kidnapped, we need someone who can track him!”

 

The door that Ranulf had been standing in swung open hard enough to slam into the wall.  “I will rescue the little one and reclaim my honor,” spake a shirtless Skrimir, who reeked of alcohol and sorrow.  “Maybe then he will return my love.”

 

“Unf,” said Almedha.

 

“He’s shirtless because he threw up,” Ranulf informed her.  So much for Skrimir taking losing well.

 

“Still, those abs. Unf.”

 

Ike fleetingly considered asking who would do a better job, but Skrimir’s motives were plain and his abs really were fantastic, so in the end it didn’t matter.  “Uh no, Skrimir, you need to protect the Queen. She’s uh, in danger too. Ranulf, you come with me.” Before anyone could respond, Ike grabbed Ranulf’s wrist and dragged him off.  Pelleas squirmed out of his mother’s grasp and followed behind.

 

 

* * *

 

  

Soren was not dead by the time the blizzard ended.  He was blissfully numb, feeling out of his body. It was delightful, although logically he knew that he was suffering hypothermia on top of his head injury.  Anyway, he thus didn’t object to being slung over Lekain’s shoulder like a sack of potatoes. He almost felt sorry for the ugly, evil old man, since a significant distance was being covered via the transportation staff, which put the burden of the entire kidnapping on Lekain himself.  

 

Okay, no, he didn’t feel sorry for him at all.

 

This is what Soren thought he said: “When we were four, a distant great-aunt took me and Pelleas to her ex-husband’s castle with the plan to murder us and frame her ex for it. The only reason it failed was that her ex-husband was currently being arrested for tax evasion and Bryce watched us walk in. It was so good of a kidnapping that neither Pelleas nor I knew we were being kidnapped at the time.  She was going to poison us with pie. I love pie. My father cut her in half vertically as punishment and Tauroneo made us not-poisoned pie. I miss his baking. I looooove pie.”

 

This is what he actually said: “Wheeeee!  You thuck at kidnappin. Noooooo points for you, F for failure, zero stars.  I looooove pie.”

 

“If you weren’t a young, pretty genius, I would drop you in the snow and leave you,” Lekain snarled.  “Still, we are close to my caravan. This is beneath me! Remind me to buy an extra staff and hire some dumb muscle next time I need to kidnap someone.”

 

“You only… ha-half qualify!” Soren snickered before giggling at his amazing joke.  Why did everyone tell him he should shut his mouth? He was _hilarious!_

 

 

* * *

 

 

“I'm coming with you!”  Pelleas ran after Ike and Ranulf, panting as physicality wasn't his thing.

 

Ike was too focused on leaving to argue with him. Pelleas didn't matter.  Nothing mattered but finding Soren. Saving Soren. Apologizing to Soren. It was his fault. The balcony was left open for him.

 

Ranulf ran with Ike. “Ike, I'll need to transform, we should stop at some point to get supplies and talk-”

 

“We don’t have time!  We get to his room, you catch his scent, and we go out after him.”

 

“I am not a bloodhouuuuu and nope, no arguments.”  Ranulf covered his mouth with a hand to make that clear.  “I will do my best, but the weather will make it hard.”

 

“You’ll figure something out.”  Ike took a breath because he needed help and being a jerk would not get him that and in non-Soren danger times, Ranulf was his non-Soren best friend.  “You need to.”

 

Ranulf gave him an awkward, lopsided smile.  “Sure. But you two… traipsing through the snow after me won’t be easy.  And the kidnapper’s had a big head start.”

 

Ike scowled.  “Good point.”

 

“What if we were to fly?” Pelleas offered.

 

Ike loved and hated him in equal measure in that moment.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Shinon the wyvern was still dismissive of Ike, flexing his wings to make it difficult for him to be saddled.  “I am not in the mood for your bullshit, lizard,” Ike snapped. The wyvern tried to bite him, but Ike jumped back.  Apparently this was enough effort on his part, because the beast sighed and stopped fighting him. Meanwhile, Pelleas was fondly saddling up a pegacorn as he cooed to it.  Ike recognized the curly, speckled fur all over its body. “Hey, isn’t that the pegacorn I had to wrangle for the second challenge?”

 

“Her name is Confetti Rainbowfluffs,” Pelleas explained.

 

“How are you the straight one?” Ranulf asked quietly and rhetorically.

 

“Not without us!”  With a mighty yell, Mist sprinted into the barn with a sword at her hip and a heal-staff in her hand; right with her was Titania, axe ready.  “No way was Soren kidnapped without getting hurt, that guy is super stubborn. And no one hurts my brother-in-law and gets away with it!”

 

“What are you two doing here?” Ike asked, ignoring her speech.

 

“Coming with you, obviously,” Titania explained.  “Gawain told us what was going on, and he’s gathering a search party but I know you and I know you’re going ahead of him.  Since you don’t know what you’re walking in to, you'll need help. You can keep arguing or we can go.”

 

Ranulf nodded. “She has a point, Ike. Did you bring vulneraries? Also someone needs to carry my Olivi grass and Pelleas has tripped twice walking in here.”

 

“I did not!”

 

Ike growled in frustration. “Damn it, we don't have time to argue!”

 

“Then we’re going,” said Mist firmly.

 

“Get on a horse then,” Ike snapped, getting on the wyvern.

 

Another person walked into the barn.  “You’ll need my help too,” the woman said.  

 

Ike didn’t recognize her, which was saying something because her hair was a very distinctive silver.  “And who the hell are you?” he demanded, “This is a rescue mission, not a parade!”

 

“My name’s Micaiah and I’m a fortune-teller.  I warned Prince Soren that he was in danger, but I can tell it came to pass anyway.”  She did not seem put off by Ike’s irritation. “They’re too far away for tracking by normal means, but I can sense they went south.”

 

(Ranulf shot her a dirty look, somewhat offended by the implication he wasn’t good enough.  He couldn’t really argue though because the trail had gone cold, pun intended. But still, rude.)

 

(Meanwhile, to Pelleas’ eyes she moved in slow motion and was surrounded by sparkles.  He may or may not have heard a saxophone riff.)

 

Ranulf handed Mist his bag and shifted, giving a loud 'I’m ready,’ meow.

 

“Awww, meow,” Pelleas cooed.  Ranulf shot him a dirty glare and proved it was possible for a cat to hold up one digit.  

 

Ike, Pelleas, Ranulf, Mist, Titania and Micaiah moved out together, an intrepid if somewhat hastily-assembled rescue team.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Ranulf thought about his friendship with Ike. He was surprised that it was an actual friendship--not just because Ike was a beorc, but because Ranulf didn't have true friends. He also felt a little responsible for him--he did have a tendency to be a mother cat, even if he denied it. He wanted Ike to be happy even if it meant Ike ended up with a semi-sociopath.

 

All of that did not mean that Ranulf was overly happy to be running through the snow. His delicate paw pads were freezing.

 

On the plus side, Titania was here so she got to see him look cool and helpful.  He honestly wanted to help Soren and Ike but hey, Titania was a bleeding heart, so she’d be impressed by his selflessness.

 

 _Also_ on the plus side, Ike was still screaming on the back of the wyvern, and it was hysterical.

 

"I fucking hate you Shinon!!!!" came from above.

 

"Don't listen to him, Confetti," Pelleas soothed.  Micaiah was sharing the pegacorn with him, much to the Crown Prince’s obvious glee.  "Ike, watch your language!"

 

Mist and Titania were riding their horses through the path Ranulf was making.  “Pretty sure Jill’s wyvern is a girl!” Mist called up to her brother, a mischievous grin on her face.

 

Ike yelled a few more obscenities to hammer home his point, before he finally retorted "Shinon’s girly too!"

 

Ranulf stopped outside a cave, sniffed, then ran inside.

 

Shinon decided to land during a full dive, stop, then toss Ike off of his/her neck into a snowbank.

 

"Motherfucker,” the snowbank said.

 

Pelleas and Micaiah followed Ranulf into the cave as Mist tried to pry her brother free.  “What is it, boy? What do you smell?”

 

“He's not a dog, or a pet,” Titania called from outside the cave as she checked the horse's hooves.

 

“Gosh you’re cute,” Micaiah murmured, looking at Pelleas fondly.

 

Ranulf looked at Pelleas too, only his was the kind of Look only an irritated cat can give you.  He shifted back. "I can't speak so that you can understand me in that shape," he said slowly as if he was talking to a child. "This is where he was kept overnight. I wanted to look around, and I also need Olivi grass.”  

 

The mages and Ranulf looked around.  Pelleas scowled. “The spirits here were wounded.”

 

Ranulf nodded, ears falling and frowning. He could smell blood, fear, anger, and all sorts of depraved desires. He didn't know how much to say.

 

Pelleas continued, upset, “My brother is very hurt, and he’s with a powerful priest.”

 

“A priest?” Mist asked as the remainder of the party came in.  “That’s weird. They’re usually nice, like Mom. And I’m curious about the spirits but now isn’t the time.”

 

Ike was in the entry of the cave, scowling.  “Shit.”

 

"Duke Lekain is the priest. I recognize his stench."  Ranulf wasn’t sure how Ike knew, but that didn’t really matter.

 

“The guy who lost?” Titania asked.

 

Pelleas started tugging on his curls.  “Soren doesn’t like him. We need to hurry then, before they get to Begnion.”

 

"I... will... render the flesh from his bones! Chop him into a thousand pieces! That son of a bitch will pay,” Ike snarled.

 

“Agreed,” said Pelleas, for once resembling a Son of Ashnard.

 

“Hoo boy,” said Mist, but she wasn’t arguing.

 

“We’re obviously on the right path,” Micaiah said calmly.  “We will catch up.”

 

Ranulf finished the Olivi grass.  "I'm ready." He smirked, fangs showing. "And I'll find him."  He shifted again, sniffing once more before he strode out in the snow, managing not to flinch at the cold. He was glad his tracking was what was leading the way and that the scent was now strong enough to follow.

 

He would run until he dropped to help Ike. Good thing cat laguz have a lot of stamina. Not as much as lions and tigers but enough, more than enough, to help a friend.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Soren was unceremoniously handed to another man, then dropped onto the back of a well-furnished wagon.  Everything hurt and yet nothing hurt, which made no sense.

 

Lekain was yelling at a group of people, something about how the caravan should have been waiting for Lekain closer to Nevassa, but even Soren knew they were probably too close and Lekain just wanted to bitch.  Oh well. At least it was comfortable in here.

 

He looked around, although at this point his vision was blurred completely; he could tell it was nicely furnished but tackily decorated.  He blinked heavily. “Oh, that’sh not good,” he commented aloud, his tongue feeling oversized.

 

He tried his best to care, to try to get his wrists unwrapped, to focus.  He was in Lekain’s personal caravan, and they were embarking for Sienne. That was it, it was done and over, he’d been successfully captured.  Ten trials to earn the hand of a prince had ended with him as a slave to an ugly, creepy man. It was kind of funny. He giggled.

 

Lekain crawled into the caravan, visibly exhausted.  “You are not allowed to eat anything this entire journey,” he snapped, and Soren giggled harder because of something about pots and kettles (seriously Lekain, lay off the cream puffs!).

 

A thick-fingered hand wrapped itself around Soren’s neck, squeezing hard enough to leave bruises and actually hurt, even in Soren’s numb state.

 

“I gave you a choice of whore or tactician,” the man growled, “but you are in danger of arriving in Sienne as a corpse.”

 

It was probably for the best that Soren couldn’t talk.  He had a few choice words. But he just relaxed, and eventually Lekain relented.

 

And then started... touching him much more nicely.

 

Which was way worse.

 

Lekain’s rude hand had gotten to Soren’s hip when the “moment” was “ruined” by a scream and people yelling about subhumans.  “Blast it, can’t I get a moment’s peace?” the Duke snarled. He stuck his head out of the wagon. “Then _kill it,_ you fools!”

 

Soren just smirked.  Soon he could hear the telltale sounds of swords clashing, magic flying, a very angry wyvern, an equally angry laguz, and the unmistakable sound of aether.  He started to laugh.

 

It made Lekain pull his head back in and look at him.  “What is so funny?” he demanded. “This is a minor setback.  My men are all trained to protect me.”

 

Soren forced his eyes to open and a smile onto his lips.  “You’re going to die.”

 

Lekain snarled and pulled out a knife.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Ranulf ran faster than ever, slowing when he heard the horses, wagon and people up ahead. He gave a cry designed to spook the horses and give his friends the head’s up that they'd arrived.

 

He began to have a grand time starting the attack by nipping at heels and causing mayhem and panic. Subhuman eh? Well, he'd show them a subhuman.

 

Ike landed Shinon almost gracefully and slid off the wyvern’s neck. It didn't even try to bite him. Ike unsheathed his sword and gave a hard smile at Ranulf inducing panic. They hadn't seen anything yet. Heads would roll, but Ike had only one victim in mind. He walked through the chaos with his cape flying behind him like Death and soon his sword shone with red.  

 

As the others began fighting, Ike cut through people and made his way to the wagon. "Lekain!  Time to die!” His voice was cold and matter of fact. He hardly recognized it but he really, really didn't care.

 

Lekain emerged from the largest wagon with his chest puffed with pride and a very smug smile on his face.  “You again? Why do you insist on pestering me, child?”

 

Ike leveled his sword at him and attacked. Fuck posturing, Lekain was going to die, like he should have during their duel.

 

... Except Lekain still had that transportation stick.  Ike made a mental note to break that thing into tiny pieces as the older man disappeared and reappeared about 30 feet away.  “How uncouth. Is everyone in Daein so rude? I should kill you like I killed that boy.”

 

The logical part of Ike's brain--that sounded a lot like Soren--knew that the staff had between 10 to 20 uses. Just get him to use it until it breaks. Bide your time and don't tire yourself out.

 

Unfortunately, the logical part of his brain was overridden by a horrific scream of rage and pain. Ike didn't even realize it came from him. He had no logical thought except _KILL_. He ran toward Lekain in a blind rage, still screaming.

 

Lekain moved to use his wand again, but his eyes widened in shock as a massive force of pure light energy hit him full on and left him in a surprising amount of pain and nausea.

 

“Left a tome in the tent,” said Soren, holding said tome in his hands.  His stomach was covered in blood but he was definitely not dead.

 

Lekain barely had time to figure out how this had happened when he had a sword shoved through his heart.  “How can... this be...”

 

Soren collapsed to the ground, unable to stand anymore.  “I ushed a light tome,” he informed the snow, proud of himself.

 

(He wanted to tell Lekain about how his poor aim had not killed Soren but _had_ left him with a knife to cut his wrist bindings, but Lekain was probably dead and that was a lot of words.)

 

Ike slashed his sword downward, nearly splitting Lekain in half before slicing again, leaving no chance for the healers to fix him this time.

 

In an instant, Ike was holding Soren in his arms and cradling his stomach.  " _MIST_!"  After screaming for his sister, he looked down at his love.  "Soren Soren Soren," he whispered like a prayer, holding his love and nuzzling him all while keeping pressure on the wound. "I am so sorry.  So sorry."

 

Soren smiled up at him tiredly.  “Look Ike, a blue kitty. That kitty is blue.  Isn’t that silly?”

 

Ike smiled shakily back at him, tears leaking down--er, sweat leaking down his nose. "Silly? A good friend and a pain in the ass yes, but not silly.”

 

“Silly,” Soren insisted.

 

“Sure, Soren,” Ike finally agreed. “I'm so sorry." He looked up ready to scream for Mist again.

 

Mist was currently fighting off five of Duke Lekain’s mooks.  “Hang on, I’m almost there!” Shortly thereafter, Ranulf and Titania arrived at her side to assist.

 

Soren blinked.  “Sorry for what? Makin’ the kitty blue? Y’ didn’ kidnap me.”

 

Micaiah knelt by Soren, her hands glowing.  

 

Ike blinked heavily--who knew it was so hot in the snow as to cause such sweat. "My fault. The balcony. It was my fault."

 

When Micaiah healed Soren, he was chuckling.  “You are such an adorable idiot,” was the last thing he managed to say before he peacefully fell asleep.

 

Micaiah let out a sigh of relief.  “There we go. We need to wrap him up for the trip home but he’ll be fine.”  Then she looked at Ike. “Awwwwwww IIIIIIke.”

 

"What? It's hot." He held Soren closer.  “Thanks, uh… you…”

 

She smiled at him even as as the others came over, Lekain’s entourage defeated.  Pelleas glomped onto Soren like a very needy octopus. “He’s okay?!”

 

Micaiah nodded even as Mist gave him a once-over.  “He will be as long as we don’t freeze on the way home.”

 

“I love you,” Pelleas breathed, looking at her with stars in his eyes.

 

Ike frowned. "He won't freeze."   He took off his cloak and wrapped it around Soren. "Check the wagon." There was a pause as he considered his tone. "Please.”

 

They ended up commandeering Lekain’s wagon to head back to Nevassa.  

 

They also threw out about half of his gaudy crap.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Soren made it to his bedroom and locked the door.  He was absolutely going to get reemed out for hours once his mother woke up and realized he’d snuck out of the infirmary, but he was sick of her cloying presence and needed freedom.  Besides, he was mostly better. He sighed and walked over to the balcony door, unlocking it.  He knew it was only a matter of time before Ike would show up, and he wasn’t about to start locking him out now.  It would be a poor start to their engagement. He smiled to himself.  A genuine, happy, if somewhat bashful smile.

 

Ike entered the room from the balcony moments later. "You should keep this locked," he chided softly, going to Soren and embracing him.

 

(Meanwhile, Ranulf held his hands and feet in front of the fire. His paws were tough but there had been a lot of snow and ice then frozen blood. He had cleaned under his nails for ever. Continuing to groom, he glanced at Pelleas. "So I ask this as a matter of international diplomacy... Do your parents have an open relationship?"

 

Pelleas was not as disturbed as one might have assumed he would be.  “They have a relationship in the vaguest of terms. But I really do not want to know about my mother’s sex life.”  Then he got a sly grin. “Unless you’re taking her back to Gallia...?”

 

"Goddess no!" he said, horrified. "No offense meant."  Pelleas merely laughed. Ranulf made a mental note to remember that Pelleas was often more scary than he let on.)

 

Soren leaned in. “When you stop needing to sneak in, then it’ll be locked.”  He let out a large sigh and hugged him back. “Where to begin... So this whole debacle may have ended the slave trade in Begnion, which is nice.”

 

"You need to be resting," Ike said. "Let me carry you to the settee.”  His arm muscles were twitching; Soren smiled wryly, because normally he would scoop him up without concern, but he was being gentle and careful, not wanting to hurt or startle him.  Soren would be offended if he didn’t know it wasn’t reflecting on _him_ , but rather on Ike’s state of mind.

 

“If you must, but I want to remind you of all the times you were injured and I did _not_ treat you like porcelain afterwards.”

 

Ike picked up him up and carried him to the settee.  He sat down still holding him, close to the fire. "You kind of did. Though mainly you yelled at me."

 

Soren curled up, still struggling to shake this internal chilled feeling and grateful for Ike’s natural high heat and the fire.  “You literally volunteered for all of it. I had no choice but to yell at you.”

 

"You should yell at me again," Ike said in a low tone, not looking at him.

 

“Hmmm... I yelled at you for getting yourself knighted, and for participating...” He held up a finger for each event, as if keeping score, “... for refusing my help with the wyvern egg… and for assuming I’d jump Skrimir.  I think I’ve hit my quota of snark and testy comments.” In Ike’s direction, if nothing else. Everyone else was fair game. “And since you both rescued me and still want to be engaged” and he could not say that without blushing and that was going to be a problem “I actually owe you six apologies.”  He sat up a little so he could kiss Ike on the cheek. “Sorry,” peck, “sorry,” peck, and so on for six times.

 

Ike pulled Soren into a kiss and held him closer.  "Oh Soren… I am so lucky _you_ still want to marry _me_!  I don't need apologies… although they were very nice," he said, blushing.  Soren blushed a little too. "I just… I'm sorry Lekain ever got to you. I definitely don't need to be thanked for the rescue."

 

Soren kissed him again.  “Well, you killed him, so, apology accepted.”

 

Ike smiled and stroked Soren's hair.  "I'd kill him again if I could - but you were a great help, _light mage_."

 

He made a face.  “I used light magic.  That doesn’t make me a light mage.  They’re the pansies of the magic world.  The magic is harder to use but it’s also weaker in some respects.  Plus they’re specialists - light mages don’t use anything _but_ light magic.  Impractical. But it’s been vexing me since they say ‘it requires purity of soul to use light magic’ and that’s just not a thing!  How does a book judge purity? What _is_ purity?”

 

Ike chuckled.  "I get it. It would be like if I used a lance and got called a halberdier. Anyway it's still awesome that you owned him with his own tome."

 

“Well thank you.”  Soren closed his eyes and relaxed.  “So… we are engaged now, and you won the tournament… so we could…”

 

Ike gulped.  “You’re injured!  And we’re not married yet.  And you’re falling asleep in my arms.”

 

“I am not,” Soren protested, falling asleep.

 

(“I have a feeling we’re never going to leave the bed on our honeymoon,” Ike admitted, not at all upset at that idea.)


	13. The Epilogue

Soren kept staring at the ring on his finger.  The ceremony was a blur, the people around were barely even there as far as he knew.  But there was a ring on his finger. The bright red ribbon of the lover’s knot on his wrist also took his attention when he wasn’t looking at the ring.  

 

He was married.  

 

To Ike.  

 

Finally.  

 

Ten challenges and a kidnapping later.  

 

He was sitting at the head of the grand table, with Ike to his left and Pelleas to his right.  He was wearing his fanciest robes in purity-white, with onyx and emeralds woven into his hair to represent Daein and Goldoa.  Ike looked dashing in white ceremonial armor. Almedha and Elena hadn’t stopped crying happily literally since Soren and Ike had met at the front of the aisle, and they were still going strong.  Ashnard wasn’t here, which was a relief. Gawain was denying the obvious tears in his eyes.

 

“White isn’t your color but I still like your robes,” said Pelleas, his grin wide.  

 

Mist had had her first taste of wine, and she draped herself on her brother’s arm.  “You need friends,” she slurred, “so I can marry one. You’re so happy it’s so cute and I want that too.”

 

Ike looked at her.  “You're beautiful today.  Just make sure you run anyone you're interested in by me.  As far as friends… Ranulf’s too old for you and Pelleas… is Pelleas.  Sorry.”

 

She giggled.  “Yep. It just won’t work.  And I feel like I know Skrimir too well, there’s no mystery there.”

 

Titania chortled.  “Sweetheart, you’re too young to be considering Skrimir at all.  Other fish in the sea and all that.”

 

“I am Pelleas, I don’t get what people mean by that,” he muttered.  Soren smiled a little. Poor Pelli.

 

Ike scowled as if he hadn’t considered that.  “Skrimir is definitely too old and not an option.  Glad you agree.”

 

Pelleas leaned over and smiled at Ike.  “Hey, brother. You did well. I’m glad I didn’t have to kill you.”

 

Mist gasped.  “Oh man, I never gave Soren a shovel talk.  I fail. I’m sorry.” Soren felt a little sad that she hadn’t; he would have enjoyed laughing at her.

 

Ike grinned. “So do it now before we leave for the honeymoon!”

 

She glanced around Ike to Soren.  “I can't do it. He’s too cute.”

 

“Darn.  What about you, Titania?”

 

The paladin smiled.  “Mist is right, he’s too cute to threaten.  Besides, we all know it’s a moot point.” Soren scoffed but didn’t deign to respond.

 

“Oh well, I'm glad you didn't try to kill me, too, Pelleas. Or should I say Flopsy?  Do I get to do that now?”

 

Pelleas opened his mouth to respond, then closed it.  Then opened it, then closed it. Then finally he said, “You better be nice to me.  Don’t want me to bring up the old rite of the public marriage consummation, do you?”

 

That got Soren’s attention.  “Don’t you dare.”

 

Pelleas smiled innocently.  Ike’s eyes went wide, and Mist made a face.  “Geez Pelleas, right for the throat. Way to finally prove you’re Soren’s brother.”

 

Ike recovered and ruffled Pelleas' floppy hair.  “I was just kidding, Pelli. And I would have to kill anyone who tried to watch, which wouldn't be a good start to being a prince…”

 

“But it might get you points with your in-laws!” Ranulf said with a grin as he sauntered up.  It made Titania, Mist and Pelleas laugh, and Ike nod in agreement.

 

Pelleas beamed.  “All is forgiven, Spikey, but Ranulf has a point.  Our parents like that kind of thing."

 

“Too messy,” Soren murmured, drinking his wine.  

 

Mist started giggling and she pointed to the far corner of the hall, where Skrimir was showing off his strength by lifting up various women.  “He’s going to be okay, isn’t he.”

 

“That’s a stretch, he was never ‘okay,’” Soren drawled, because he would never miss an opportunity to insult Skrimir.  It made Mist giggle more.

 

“Just keep him away from Mother and it’ll all be okay,” said Pelleas sagely.

 

Ranulf nodded. “Yeah, he'll be fine. He never pines for what he doesn't have and he isn't the brooding type.  I really am happy for you two kids.”

 

Ike nodded.  “Thanks Ranulf. Have a seat.  We saved you one."

 

As the cat man sat next to Titania, Soren raised his glass a little.  “Yes, thank you for everything, Ranulf.” He yawned. “In olden days we would have to sit here while all the presents were unwrapped for us and everyone would ooh and aww and it would take hours.  That is one thing my father did right.”

 

“So now you unwrap them at leisure?”

 

“I doubt there's anything we want,” Ike mused, then amended, “save for whatever all of you got us, heh… sorry…”

 

“But yes, we don’t have to open them now, since Begnion sent what looks to be their entire treasury as apology for Lekain.  At least Empress Misaha continues to be somewhat sensible.”

 

“That was the least she could do," Ranulf said with a shrug.

 

Mist pouted.  “They should send me a boyfriend.”

 

“So I have to ask, what was the whole thing about the icicle?” Titania asked.  “I never realized it but this was my first Daeinite wedding.”

 

“Our weddings have deviated quite a bit from the Begnion standard,” Soren explained, “First, you likely noted we exchanged swords as well as rings; the blades are ancestral, signifying our families blending together.”  Soren would likely never touch the one he got again, no offense Ike. “We also tied the lovers’ knot in addition to the ring exchange. Then we each picked an icicle, put them in the ceremonial bowl and drank from the water to symbolise our joining.  Then technically speaking, the males of the wedding party should get drunk, engage in a competition to see who can withstand a naked snow bath for the longest, and then the loser needs to accompany the warrior groom to hunt a polar bear. But we’re skipping that.”

 

“Thanks,” said Ike and Pelleas (who would undoubtedly lose and need to go) together.

 

“No need for a polar bear?” Titania asked, amused.

 

“I’d rather have a husband, yes.”

 

“Interesting.”  Titania looked to Ranulf.  “I’ve never been to a Gallian wedding either… I’m curious, what sort of marriage rites from Gallia are there?”

 

Ranulf grinned. “Well, Ike should have placed Lekain's dead body at Soren’s feet.  Or found a choice game animal. Enemy killing or food you've hunted yourself is a traditional gift.”

 

Soren looked at Ike with a glint of amusement in his eyes.  “I like that idea. Go find his corpse, would you?”

 

Ike laughed.  “Hey, he was close to your feet and anyway that was a joint kill.  Who else don't you like?”

 

“Excuses excuses... That girl who gave me food poisoning, perhaps.”  Sorry, random person. Food poisoning is his story and he’s sticking to it.

 

“Really, one girl? That's your murder list?”  Ike teased playfully.

 

Pelleas giggled.  “Assault and kidnapping, and food poisoning.  All are equal sins, all must die.”

 

“Well usually I kill these people myself,” Soren pointed out.

 

“But that doesn't count, _I_ have to murder them.  As for who you can kill… well there’s that older lady who stalked me for awhile..."

 

Soren smiled. “Crazy Aimee?  Consider it done.”

 

Ike paused.  “I hope you aren't serious…. I think… Uh, what else, Ranulf?”

 

“We also strip naked and dance under the full moon, which is where we consummate the marriage as part of a large no-limits orgy,” Ranulf said casually.  

 

Soren blinked, then got it was a joke.  “Well then, our honeymoon in Gallia should be interesting.  We’ll have to get you some dancing lessons before we go, Ike.”

 

Ike stared at Ranulf.  “Ha ha.”

 

“Maybe start in a bed first?” Pelleas suggested timidly.

 

Ranulf grinned.  “I'm joking, of course.  But the new couples do go see the next full moon after their marriage together as a couple, alone.  Then they make what's called the new moon promise. Basically a private wedding, sort of. They exchange the vows that are only for each other and a small but meaningful gift. It's very romantic.  And it gives them an excuse to flee the in laws and extend the honeymoon.”

 

Soren nodded.   His attention was fading, he needed a break.  He stood up. “Interesting. I need a breath of fresh air.  I'll be right back.” He left to do just that.

 

Ike watched his husband walk out.  He tried to pretend he wasn’t staring at his butt, but he didn't try too hard.  He was allowed to look now!

 

After all, he was married.  

 

To Soren.  

 

Finally.

 

Ranulf watched Soren walk out too, eyes suspiciously too low.  “I am so glad it all worked out. You deserve a happy ending. Both the literal and the honeymoon kind.”

 

“Did you seriously make that joke while staring at my new husband’s ass?”

 

“Ew,” said Pelleas.

 

Ranulf held up his hands.  “Hey, you can’t fault me for that.  But no harm intended. And… well, sorry about you-know-who.  I honestly should have anticipated his extreme interest but normally he dislikes dragons...  But Soren is a pretty boy and apparently Skrimir likes snark, because if he didn’t I would’ve been fired years ago.  Anyway I owed you for that. But I want to say, I can help you now, too.” He ran a hand through his hair, awkward, which was unusual for him.

 

“I’m not mad, I promise.  But uh...” Ike looked to make sure Soren was out of the room.  “What kind of help?”

 

“Soren adores you, so you have that, and Pelleas is Pelleas, but you just married into a very hardcore political family that could turn on you at any time.  Your upbringing and the fact you’re from here is okay, but you've never been exactly… political. I can give you advice and, if you’re ever in trouble, call me.  People owe me favors everywhere and I'm good at getting out of trouble. And if I wasn't good at getting _other people_ out of trouble too, I wouldn't be Skrimir’s keeper."

 

“I am Pelleas,” grumbled Pelleas as he drank his own wine.

 

Ike sighed in relief. “Oh, phew.  I was worried you were going to offer me ‘the talk.’  Last time that happened I hid in a closet and Soren got kidnapped, so, let’s avoid it.”

 

Ranulf snickered.  “You thought… oh Goddess, that's good. No, no Ike, I am not going to give you ‘the talk.’  Geez. I don’t even… I have no idea where I would even start with that!”

 

“But anyway I do keep planning on training so that if I have to - scratch that, when I have to kill Ashnard someday it won't be too hard,” Ike finished.

 

"Training is a wise idea.  And what you mentioned was part of the reason for my offer.  You… I don't really have friends… you're it. Skrimir is like a kitten I'm raising. The point is, you can call on me.  For that or anything else. "

 

Ike held out a fist.  “Right back at you.”

 

Ranulf bumped it, gave him a nod, then smirked. "I would only give you bedroom pointers if I thought you needed them… but I am sure you don't.  Oh, on a serious note, you guys should do the new moon promise."

 

Ike flushed.  “Thanks? But uh... say hypothetically you were to... uh offer advice for um, two men who’d never had sex before…  You know, any pointers? Asking for a friend. The uh, the friend’s dad tried to give advice, but… he did it really badly.  Which scarred the friend for life, by the way. The friend’s mom basically talked about how magical it would be. Nice but not helpful.”  Ike shrugged as if he wasn't simultaneously excited for and terrified of the wedding night and honeymoon period. He was pretty sure they could get in sync pretty quickly but, y'know, nerves.

 

Ranulf went with it and leaned in, talking very quietly. "Well, tell your friend to take it slow. He will need something to smooth the road… by which I mean lubrication."  

 

Ranulf gave Ike sage advice ‘for his friend,’ the basics of what to know and how to make it pleasurable.  Ike listened intently, taking notes in his mind. For his friend.  Ike then noticed that they were sitting alone.  “Ah crud, I lost Mist. She’s pulling an ‘I’m going to die alone’ act.”  Then he spotted her by Skrimir. “Double crud, thanks Ranulf!” He ran off.

 

Ranulf chuckled, got up, and went outside.  He had a bad feeling about Soren, and so it was time to check on him.  The whole area felt weird, but Ranulf ignored his tail puffing up.

 

Soren was alone, sitting curled up in the corner of a railing.  The moment he heard someone come outside he stood up and brushed himself off quickly.  “Oh, Ranulf. Hi.”

 

“Hello, my liege.”  He gave a bow. “How are you holding up?”  Ranulf could smell the bruises again. Apparently Ashnard had been pissed.  His tail turned from puffed to spiked but otherwise he kept his cool.

 

Soren met his diplomatic talk.  “Well enough, thank you Ambassador.  We have enjoyed your presence on this day of celebration.  How might we assist you?”

 

Ranulf finished his survey of the area; yep, they were alone, so he dropped the act.  “We're definitely alone. Although if you prefer I continue in court speak I will, but Ike is a friend and thus so are you." 

 

Soren shrugged.  “I loathe it, frankly.  Yes we are alone. I’ve become decent at barrier magic.”

 

Ranulf grinned. “So _that_ is what I sensed.  It put me on my guard.  Ike's trying to save Mist from my kitten so we have a minute to talk if you don't mind.”

 

He chuckled. “Your kitten.  I don't mind, no. The barrier was mostly geared toward the hundred or so nobles who appear during parties.  And my mother.”

 

Ranulf chuckled in turn. “Ike is madly in love with you and you are crazy strong together.  You are also very good at 'the court game' so I do not worry from your quarter, but, I am good at diplomacy and secrecy so should you ever need help, I'm happy to offer it.  I told Ike much the same thing.”

 

Soren nodded.  “I have warned him many times that marriage to me is a prison sentence of a sort, but he is very stubborn.” He took a deep breath.  “Ranulf, if he confides in you that he’s miserable or that he’s made a mistake, please tell me. I know he won’t let me know.”

 

Ranulf's typical cocky stance shifted and his expression softened. “Oh Soren, he loves you more than he loves food.  He won't ever tell me such a thing… but if he did, I'd tell you, and try to help you figure it out.”

 

Soren let out a pained breath.  “Good. Good. That makes me feel better.”

 

"He really does love you terribly much.  You guys are lucky. Not everyone is.” Ranulf remembered how defensive Soren had gotten last time they talked about his injuries, so he just said, “Take care of yourself, and don't punish yourself because you're happy.”  He looked back towards the party. “I had better make sure Skrimir isn't causing an international incident."

 

( _Don’t punish yourself because you’re happy._

 

Soren didn’t know how to respond to that, so he didn’t.  It hit too close to home. It made the aches he still felt intensify.)

 

“Yes. That would be a shame.  Although given my father’s absence and my mother’s fondness, he should be all right.  I'm kind of fond of him too, which is… just weird. Regardless, if you or he needs anything that I can help with, let me know.”

 

Ranulf laughed. “He is oddly endearing, isn’t he?  He's basically like a kitten who means well but never thinks before he acts, speaks, or attacks.  He's good at heart, though."

 

“Precisely.  And he’s forthright, which is a virtue… in small amounts...”

 

“Is it? Sometimes I wonder, with him.”  He smiled at Soren and felt semi-hopeful that Soren no longer despised him.

 

Soren curled back up where he’d been before.  “Thank you again. I'll be in soon.”

 

Ranulf nodded.  “Remember, it's okay to be happy.  You have that right.” On that note, he fled, seeing he didn't have the right to give him in depth advice. They weren’t yet good friends.  And hey, maybe someday Soren would believe him.

 

Oh dear Goddess, he was going to make another beorc friend, wasn't he? Lethe would never let him hear the end of it.

 

Speaking of beorc friends, Ranulf went to find his new favorite beorc lady.  He tagged out by telling Pelleas, who went to find his wayward brother.

 

Titania was standing back and chuckling as she watched Ike wrangle Mist.  Ranulf sauntered up to her, trying to think of how he wanted to play this.  Cats were a bit cagey when it came to commitment, but he hadn’t been joking when he said Soren and Ike’s shmoopiness made him consider it…

 

Turned out he worried over nothing.  “Hey, will you be heading back to Gallia?” she asked him when he joined her.

 

Ranulf blinked in surprise. “Are you asking in sorrow or anticipation?” he finally asked.

 

Titania laughed. “Of those options, I suppose sorrow.”

 

“Good,” Ran said with a smile. “Because I can allay your sorrows. I will be returning here as the diplomat after getting Skrimir resettled.”

 

Titania looked over the handsome cat and smiled. “Good. I don't know if I’d want to waste my time getting to know you if I'd never see you again.”

 

“But now that I'll be around?”

 

“That depends on you,” the red-haired woman replied.

 

“I would very much like to get to know you better, Titania,” Ranulf said charmingly and he meant it.

 

She smiled. “Then I'd like to get to know you as well.”

 

Ranulf purred.

 

When Pelleas found Soren, Soren neither looked nor stood up.  Pelleas got on the floor with him for cuddles, putting pressure on Soren’s ribcage and stomach.  At length he started talking, just getting the words out of his head. “Thank you for everything.  You’ve been my protector our whole lives, while Ike’s tried so hard to be yours. The universe is repaying you for keeping me safe by giving you Ike.  I’d tell you to see a healer but I know you won’t. So we’ll sit here until you’re ready to go back inside where everyone is happy for you.”

 

After a few more minutes, Soren sighed.  “All right, let’s finish this.” 

 

Pelleas smiled, stood, and helped him up.  The two returned to the party as of they’d never left.

 

Ike was heading to the door, a worried look on his face and a protesting Mist being dragged behind him.

 

“I just want looooooove!”

 

“You _may_ want to take her to your mother,” Soren delicately suggested.

 

“You may want to take _you_ to _your_ mother,” Mist replied, drunk as a skunk.

 

Ike looked embarrassed. "I was going to take her to Mom but I was worried about you…”

 

Soren shook his head.  “Don’t be. We’ll be leaving soon anyway.”

 

Unable to resist, Pelleas added the “OooooooOOOOOoooooo.”

 

Ike sighed. "I'll be right back, love." He took his protesting sister to their mother.

 

“See, I could be a worse sibling.  I already found the love of _my_ life.”

 

“Really, the fortune teller you met once?  You say the dumbest things sometimes.”

 

“You love me anyway.”

 

Meanwhile, Ike hugged his sister and his mom as an apology for leaving them in snow-filled Daein and going to Gallia.  Well he wasn't really sorry...

 

Elena pinched his cheek.  “You’re not really sorry.”

 

Ike couldn't help but smile. “Well, no… but I will miss you, both of you.  And you too, Dad.”

 

She patted that cheek.  Her own were still damp with tears.  “Go on, lovelight. Enjoy the victory of love!”

 

Gawain gave him a nod and patted him on the back.  “Congratulations. Now get going. You don't want him going on the honeymoon without you.”

 

Ike headed for his… husband.  He was married to Soren! Consequently he had a huge grin on his face.  And he wasn’t the only one - the people were cheering and waving to them, which made Soren flush and grab Ike as soon as he appeared to drag him out.  The cheers grew louder. Soren sighed as they got away.  “We’ll leave tomorrow for Gallia.  Tonight we spend in our suite.”

 

Ike tightened his arm around Soren's waist.  “I don't care where we spend it so long as we're together.”

 

Soren let out a pleased yet slightly exasperated sigh.  “Would you stop that?”

 

"What?"

 

“The, you know... the sappiness.”  

 

“No,” Ike said with a grin, “I don't think I can.  I love my cuddlekins too much!”

 

“I will lock you out of our bedroom, don’t think I won't!”  And yet Ike could tell he wasn't all that upset. He opened the door to their new home with a wry smile on his face.  This quickly turned to shock when it became apparent that the entire sitting room was filled with boxes, baskets, and cards.  “Oh.”

 

“Wow.  Well, I'm just glad we can make it in the front door...”

 

After they slipped inside, Soren shut and locked the door behind them.  “It might take months to go through all this. This is ridiculous.”

 

“I'm going to make sure the balcony is locked…  If I can get over there."

 

Soren actually smiled brightly.  “It doesn’t need to be unlocked anymore.”

 

Ike smiled back at Soren. "No, it doesn't."

 

* * *

 

_Soren and Ike lived happily ever after.  They did not name their children after any variations of cacti. Or, sadly, Ranulf._

 

_(Ranulf and Titania totally hooked up though.)_

_(Pelleas did not abdicate or start a band called the Dreaded White Fluff.  But he did end up marrying Micaiah.)_

_The end!_

_Thank you for reading!_

 


End file.
